Keith's Misadventures with the McClains
by sir wilfrederick
Summary: Keith had been through fourteen foster homes in less than ten years. After being abandoned in the desert from the last family, he was placed with the McClains, and-well, life certainly got interesting. And better. (Keith's POV of Mama McClain's Misadventures with Teenagers; rated M for swearing and some violence)
1. Dropped at Your Door

NOTE: This is Mama McClain's Misadventures with Teenagers, but in Keith's POV! So a LOT of this will be verbatim from that story, and it'll pretty much be following the chapters from that story. So chapters will come out much more quickly, but might be sporadic because of work.

* * *

Laura said he had been missing for a year, out in that godforsaken desert.

Had it only been a year? It felt much longer than that.

The doctors said he was dehydrated, malnourished, suffering from a bad attitude. They tried to get him to talk about why he was out there, claiming his previous foster parents—Jim and Clara? John and Susan? He couldn't remember—had been worried sick, claimed he had run away.

Keith kept his mouth shut and turned away. They weren't going to listen to him, anyway.

He was in the hospital for over a week before the doctors deemed him fit enough to be tossed away to a new foster home. Laura seemed happy about the McClains.

"They're wonderful people," Laura said, shuffling papers on her desk nervously as they waited for the McClains to pick him up. She had explained that she was his new caseworker. His previous one had quit not too long after he had disappeared. James? Jack? Something like that. Keith didn't care. "Usually they take our emergency fosters—the ones when we're trying to find other relatives to take them in, you know? They've had five kids and the youngest, Lance, still lives in the house. He's about your age, actually. So they're well equipped to take care of you and we're hoping this will be a more permanent solution."

She'd obviously seen that he had been through fourteen foster homes in eight—nine—whatever years. His file was thick, too, thicker than some of the other ones on her desk.

Keith clutched his backpack closer. It held everything he owned—a few t-shirts, an extra few pairs of underwear, his mother's knife hidden at the bottom, a picture of him and his dad. Nothing else, though. He didn't _need_ anything else. He had been _fine_ out in the desert by himself. Sure, he had only been sixteen—wow, he was seventeen now, apparently they had found him on his _birthday_, what a joke—but he had made it work. Too bad the inspectors had come to look at the shack he had found.

He didn't speak.

Laura sighed. "Well, she should be here any minute. Are you sure you don't want something to drink?"

He clutched the bag closer and shook his head. His throat hurt too much to speak.

He figured that's probably the least of what he deserved.

A knock interrupted them. A Hispanic—probably, maybe—woman stood in the doorway. She had a small, tentative smile and kind eyes.

His last foster mother had had the same smile when he was dropped at her door.

"Hello, Keith."

Keith nodded his greeting, carefully, keeping his eyes from meeting hers. She had looked hesitant when greeting him. She probably had read his file.

She would probably believe he was a bad kid, just like the rest of them.

Soon enough, they were ushering him out the door. He followed Rosalina to her car and she started babbling about pizza. He let her; he didn't have the energy to talk back. His bones felt so, so heavy, and he just wanted to go to sleep.

And then she started rambling about her family. Keith kept the bag close to his chest, even if Rosalina had offered that he could put it in the back seat. It made him feel... safe, having it as a barrier in front of him. It had been a long year, out in the desert by himself. He hadn't really talked to anyone, except the coyote that hung around and liked head pats sometimes. He was certainly out of practice with communicating with humans.

"Lance is fairly high energy, just to warn you," she said as she turned out of the parking lot. Pepperoni and meat lover's and grease filled the car. It made his stomach roll.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. He should... probably reply to that, right? "Okay," he said, trying not to cringe at the croak.

Rosalina pulled into the garage. Keith kept his gaze out the front windshield as she turned off the car and shut the garage door. Her keys jangled in her hand. He couldn't help squeezing the bag closer, wishing, desperately, that he was back out in the desert.

"There's no need to be nervous," Rosalina said out of the blue.

"I'm not nervous," Keith grumbled. The _nerve_.

"Lance is kind of like an overeager puppy whose limbs grew too quickly and the rest of him is waiting to grow into them."

Keith felt his eyebrows and lips twitch without his permission, but he didn't comment otherwise.

"Let's go eat and then see what we can do for that tangle you call hair." Rosalina shoved open her door, waiting for Keith to get out the passenger side before she closed her door. "Lance!" Rosalina called as they stepped through the door. "Come here, please!"

Keith stood next to her, hand gripping tight to the strap of his backpack he had slung over his shoulder. He shuffled behind her, letting the door swing shut with a soft sound. From somewhere deep in the house, a boy emerged with much more sound than Keith thought could be humanly possible, stomping and clamoring down the hallway.

"Oh, hi!" The boy grinned obnoxiously. That _had_ to hurt. This kid couldn't possibly be human. "You must be Keith!"

Keith didn't know how to respond. He looked to Rosalina, hoping she could give him some hint, or something, but he saw the quirk of her lips. She was amused. "Yeah," he finally answered. His voice still croaked.

"I'm Lance!" Lance thrusted his hand in Keith's space.

"Careful, Lance," Rosalina said as she walked away. "He bites."

Okay, that was only, like, _once_! _Maybe_ twice.

"_Pfft_. So did Leo." Keith growled. If this family wanted to think he was dangerous, he would _show_ them dangerous. "Did you just _growl_ at me?"

And this kid would not. Stop. _Talking_. Keith grunted his answers, hoping the boy would just leave him alone. But it just seemed to encourage him. So did silence. Keith just couldn't win with this kid. Finally, though, Rosalina showed him to his new room. It was plain—nothing lined the walls or sat on the desk or dresser. It was all neutral greys and blues and browns, obviously for older fosters. Or like a guestroom.

It reminded him that he probably wouldn't be staying there long. His backpack fell from his shoulder and landed with a thump on the carpet.

"Are you hungry, Keith?" she asked.

Not really, no. He drew in a breath and tilted his head back up. "Yeah, I guess."

They didn't wait for her husband—Marcus—to get home. Keith was still nibbling on his first slice as the big man walked in. He had large arms and a thick chest. Keith tried not to wince, instead trying to keep his gaze on them but with his head down. The two kissed before he went to wash his hands.

"Keith, right?" He wiped his hands on the towel and hung it back over the oven handle with a smirk to Rosalina. What was that about? Were they just... waiting for a good time to pull a 'joke'? Tell him he could only have the one slice? That he would be locked in his room? That Marcus was going to beat him for some... infraction? "Nice to meet ya."

"Likewise, Mr. McClain." Keep calm. Be polite. Even if his heart was thudding in his chest.

"Nonsense," he said. He kissed his wife again as he sat down and pulled some pizza onto his plate. He took a large bite and grinned at Keith. With a full mouth, still chewing, he said, "Call me Marcus."

"_Marcus_."

"What?"

"No wonder our children are animals," she huffed behind a slice of pizza.

But Keith's attention was pulled towards Lance. Lance was trying to prove to him that he could stick an entire slice of pepperoni into his mouth, trying to goad a Keith into doing the same.

What a weird kid.

* * *

Rosalina sent him to take a shower after dinner, claiming it would make him feel better, more relaxed. That he needed to wash his hair so she could try to tame it.

"You don't have to try to comb it, but do try to use conditioner."

He scowled at that, but stalked off to his room to grab his bag. He brought the whole thing into the bathroom with him, not trusting them enough to not go through it when he couldn't keep track of them. Nothing in it was really clean, but it was the only thing he had. No one had bothered to buy him more clothes or anything. Typical, really, but whatever. He'd make it work.

Keith wondered which bottles he was allowed to use. There were a few kids shampoos and some baby soap and then probably hundreds of other bottles that took up every available shelf. Who—who needed this much product?! There was no way it was only for one person.

He used what looked like the cheapest and put on a new shirt. That should do.

Rosalina ambushed him after he brought his bag back to his room. He didn't like that he couldn't see if someone snuck into the room to go through it, but he supposed he would just have to make sure the knife and picture were there when he got back. He sat in the chair without fuss, though frowned at the setup. The room was still rather warm. Maybe Marcus had taken his own shower.

"I'm going to trim your hair," she explained, picking up her scissors and snapping them twice in quick succession. He tried to hide a flinch. "You can't get out of that. I'm going to guess that you haven't had a proper haircut in a very long time." Well, he supposed chopping off the ends every few months didn't count as 'proper.' He shook his head. "Alright. So I'm going to help you brush it out and trim it, unless you want something different?"

Keith hesitated, catching her eyes in the mirror. He held her gaze, firm, frowning slightly. "I... like it long," he admitted after nearly a minute of silence.

"I can do that."

She started with brushing his hair. It was still mostly tangled, and he held a grimace as she held the strands firmly in hand to keep from tugging too much on his scalp. His eyebrow rose when she pulled the kid's detangler closer and spritzed his hair liberally. Okay, then.

"We can talk about whatever," she said as she worked the brush. Keith wasn't sure what to say. When he didn't respond, she added slowly. "Or we can sit in silence."

Keith really wasn't keen on talking, so he just... didn't answer.

She wasn't even half-way done brushing his hair when he heard someone stomping towards them. Aw, shit. Had he done something to upset Marcus, somehow? There wasn't an escape—he was trapped. Keith tried to breathe as evenly as he could. Rosalina opened the door before they came bursting through.

"_Mom_!" Oh. So it was Lance.

Keith could only see that Rosalina crossed her arms. He wasn't sure what expression she had on her face. "I'll pay attention to you when I'm done cutting Keith's hair."

"But—"

"Is it a life or death emergency?"

"Well, no—"

"You'll survive. You know the rules. Go sit with your dad."

Lance huffed, crossing his arms as well and looking away. He looked like he was about to throw a tantrum. Seriously? The kid was—what, sixteen? Seventeen? And still threw tantrums? Was he a spoiled brat, then, and try to get Keith in trouble? He'd had a few of the kids do that before, and punishment had never been pleasant.

"Go, _hijo_. You know the rules. Your father is out there."

"_Fine_."

Lance stomped away, throwing her bedroom door closed with a slam. Keith couldn't stop the flinch.

"He's not really mad," she said, returning to him to brush his hair. "He believes I need to pay attention to him at all times. He's the baby, you see. Quite the mama's boy."

Keith's lips quirked up at the corners. "I can tell."

"And don't be afraid to be sassy," Rosalina said offhandedly, eyeing him for his reaction. "We like to tease each other a lot. And if someone goes too far with it, let them know."

He mulled over her words, eyes lowered, fists clenched in his lap. Was this a test? Surely, it had to be, but... She was still looking at him so kindly. It had been a long, long time since he had seen a kind face. Finally, he said, "Okay," and left it at that.

When she was done, he quietly thanked her, pulled off the towel around his neck, and excused himself to bed. His knife and picture were exactly where he had left them. He fell onto the bed, so exhausted. He was still a little amazed that she had listened and had kept his hair long enough to pass his shoulders a little.

Keith bit his lip before getting up to grab his knife. He slipped it under his pillow and curled up under the blankets, facing the door, one hand clutched on the handle of the knife. These people were nice. Lots of them started out that way, though.

He missed Shiro so, so desperately. His chest ached with that missing hole. But he didn't know how to find him again, or if Shiro had even cared that he had been missing in the first place, or even if the McClains would let him try to contact Shiro.

He wanted, so hard, to believe that they would be kind to him.

* * *

Out in the desert, he had thought about killing himself so many times. Being hungry sucked. Being thirsty sucked. Being hot sucked. No one would probably be looking for him. Good riddance, they probably thought. He had been too much of a problem, too angry, too violent, too worthless, too _gay_. The only people who knew he was out there were those goddamn fosters. If he killed himself, he would just be a body to feed that coyote that came around.

But it was quiet. Calm. No one was screaming at him, or ordering him around. No one was there to hit him or scold him or sneer at him. He could be himself instead of trying to fit into the stupid little boxes the foster families tried to put him in.

He lived just to spite them.


	2. The Sunrise

Surprisingly, he got a full night's rest. He woke up feeling... refreshed. Lighter, maybe. The bed was loads better than the sorry excuse of a mattress he had out in the desert, that was for sure. But he was still tired. Still hungry. Still nauseous.

He beat the sun awake.

The best part about the desert had been the sunrises and sunsets. There was nothing more beautiful, no matter how many times he watched from the roof of his shack. It was when the world burst to life in soft pinks and purples and reds and yellows and oranges and died with the same, but bolder, sharper.

Keith crawled onto the desk sitting under the window and opened the curtains.

The sunrise here, in the city, wasn't nearly as beautiful. Not nearly as calming.

He sat there for a while, watching the sun creep over the horizon. He missed the desert, then, missed how quickly the cool air turned warm, how the sand had warmed under his toes, the sun kissing his skin as it peeked over the plateaus.

A knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts. He closed the curtains before hopping off the desk to see what they wanted.

Rosalina. Breakfast was ready.

Keith sat down next to Lance again, who was dressed and ready for the day. Rosalina had told him that they would enroll him tomorrow, but he wasn't going to start quite yet.

Fine with him. He wasn't too thrilled with going back to school in the first place.

It wasn't long before Lance was whining protests about how Keith didn't have to go and that he should stay home, too. Keith rolled his eyes, eating the last bite of his pancakes. They were good. _Really_ good. His stomach still felt uneasy, and he could only eat one with a little bit of peanut butter before he started feeling full.

Ugh. He was so tired, still. His body felt—heavy. He slouched, wondering—hoping—that Rosalina would let him go back to bed.

"Come on, Keith," she said softly, smiling when he looked up at her. She took his empty plate and dumped it in the sink with a clatter that made him wince. "Go brush your hair and get ready to go out. We're going shopping."

Uncertain, eyebrow raised, Keith did as he was told, dressing in a new t-shirt that didn't smell too sweaty and met her back in the kitchen. She ushered him to the car and ask where he wanted to get his clothes.

"What?" He paused putting his seatbelt on to stare at her. She was... going to buy him clothes?

"You have, like, three shirts and one pair of pants," was her retort. "And you're a stinky boy. You're getting more clothes. Besides, it's November and you don't have a jacket or anything."

Keith tried to hide how offended he felt. He _stunk_? He tried to discretely sniff his armpit. Okay, sure, so he hadn't had a chance to wash his shirts in a while. It was a little hard to do that in the desert, _thanks_. "Walmart is fine with me," he mumbled, hunching his shoulders. He picked at black fingerless gloves that Shiro had gotten him for Christmas a few years ago. "I don't need anything expensive or anything."

"But you do deserve nice things."

"'m too rough for that."

"Then I clean them or mend them and if it's not repairable I buy you new clothes. You don't have to have subpar clothing just because you think you're too rough," she replied. She added, when he didn't speak, "What kind of clothes do you like? Do you like graphic tees, flannel, pastels? Lance likes pastels and light jeans and things like that. Or shirts with puns."

He smirked at that. "I... guess I like flannel? And darker clothes? Hides stains better." She stared at him, horrified, so, quickly, he spat out, "Like oil stains from working on bikes and stuff!"

Rosalina shot him an amused look. "Do you like working on cars, then? Maybe you can go with Marcus one day and help out, if that's your thing?"

Wait. They would let him _do_ that? "Do you think he'd let me?"

"Of course!" Rosalina smiled at him, though it looked a little sad. Why, Keith had no idea. "He would love to. None of our children really got into it, so he'd be more than happy to share that with you."

Oh, maybe that was why. Keith couldn't hide his smile. It would be nice to be included, for once, especially for something he actually enjoyed.

They pulled into the Walmart parking lot. There weren't a lot of people there at—eight a.m. He was just glad that she wasn't going to spend money on expensive clothing he would probably ruin anyway.

And, of course, they had to go straight to the underwear. She raised an eyebrow at him and said, "I have three boys and a husband. I've seen boxers before. Now pick something."

Determined not to be embarrassed, Keith eyed the boxers. It wasn't really his thing, honestly. He didn't like how loose they were. Sure, it helped with airing out sometimes, but—it just... didn't feel as safe. He moved down towards the boxer-briefs, carefully watching for her reaction as he picked up a package and looked at the colors inside. Not too bad, he supposed. Keeping eye contact, Keith laid the package in the cart. Rosalina lifted an eyebrow. Keith raised one as well.

"Get another package."

Keith frowned, but he pulled out another package. There was no use arguing, he supposed.

He picked out a few socks—both tall and short, just in case—and then she pushed him towards the shirts. Keith hesitated, looking back at the Hanes and Fruit of the Loom t-shirts in cheap bulk packaging.

"Alright, alright." She _graciously_ allowed him to pick out two packages—one black, and one with both dark grey and lighter grey—and he tried to find the cheapest he could find. He was trying to save her money where he could. The brand didn't matter to him all that much. "Now you said you like flannel? Let's get you some jackets and hoodies, too, if you want, and we'll get you a winter coat, too."

Weird. Really weird. Why was she wanting to buy him all this stuff? He gave her an odd look, trying to understand, but followed her around the different racks. He felt each item before deciding if he liked it or not. He wanted... something soft. Something—Something warm, that could hug him. He ended up picking out a red flannel, a grey flannel, and a cool Gryffindor hoodie in the cart. There was another hoodie—a black one with a galaxy-cat combo that he kind of wanted, but he didn't want to press his luck with asking if he could have both. Harry Potter was kind of cool to be a fan of, if he remembered correctly. The cat hoodie... Probably wouldn't go over as well.

"Do you want it?"

"What?"

"That cat hoodie. Do you want it?"

Keith hesitated, looking back between her and the hoodie. "I already picked one out, though."

"You're allowed to have more than one, Keith," she said. She looked like she was biting the inside of her cheek. Was she getting mad at him?

..._Why_?

Keith watched her closely, then picked out his size and gently placed it in the cart.

"Now for pajamas." Rosalina grinned when he let out an accidental huff behind her, but he diligently followed her. "At least three thin pants and one pair of sweatpants. No excuses."

He scowled. This was just getting ridiculous! This was entirely too much clothing and would for sure likely cost a small fortune. Rosalina just smiled at him and shooed him away. He stalked off, hunching his shoulders. He just wanted to go back to bed. Was that too much to ask for?

"Keith!" Rosalina called out after a while of browsing at the graphic tees. "What do you think of these?"

The first shirt was dark grey with a hen, white lettering above it reading "Guess what" with an arrow pointing to the chicken's butt. The second was a black shirt with a cat dressed like a rapper or a DJ or something with sunglasses and earphones and a hat and blue and purple swirls like fire behind it. The caption underneath in bright pink said "Check meowt." The third was her favorite: black with a fat cat wearing an astronaut helmet, the background a purple and pink, and a taco in front of the cat.

Keith couldn't help cracking a grin. What even?

Rosalina grinned right back, dropping them into the cart before he could protest. "Chop, chop!" she said, motioning to the pants. "We have more to get!"

He dropped the pants in, rolling his eyes at her but followed as she led him to the jeans. Not like he really had a choice.

"At least three pairs," she said once they stopped in front of the wall of jeans.

"_Three_?"

"That's what I said."

Keith eyed the cart. "Rosalina... You've spent enough on me already." How was he ever going to pay her back for all of that?

"Keith." She didn't continue, so he looked up at her. She had that small, sad smile he was starting to dislike. He kind of wanted to bolt, to make his way back out to the desert where he didn't have to try to figure out people's intentions so much. "Keith. You need clothes. I'm more than happy to provide them for you, no matter how much they cost. I used to buy for five children. You're no burden on me."

Well _great_. Now she was trying to guilt him into it. Keith looked away to study the jeans, biting his lip, picked at his gloves. It was nice and all that she wanted to buy him clothes—hell, it was better than most of the fosters. They only allowed him to get the bare minimum, most of the time. Why waste money on a kid who wouldn't stay more than a month or two—

"We can buy you new gloves," she said softly, pulling him from his thoughts. "Those look a little small."

"No, thank you," he replied quietly. "They were a gift from a friend." Panic squeezed his chest at the thought of getting rid of them. They were from _Shiro_. One of the few gifts he'd ever gotten, and he couldn't just—couldn't just _throw them away_.

"You can keep them. You don't have to throw them away. It's just... they look a little small."

"Yeah..."

Thankfully, she dropped it and urged him to pick out some jeans. Which, yeah, the ones he was wearing were a little tighter than he liked. He didn't really want to try anything on, so he just picked out a few sizes up from what he wore now. That way, he could grow a little into them. If he ever gained that weight back.

While he was picking out some jeans, she looked through the coats. She brought back a couple to choose from—both black. Keith was a little disappointed. There was a red coat he sort of liked on display, but bit his tongue. Be polite. No arguments.

He picked the work coat—a thicker, coarse, jean-like material on the outside and fleece on the inside—over the slick down coat. It would survive longer, probably.

Rosalina seemed surprised that he put a pair of black skinny jeans in the cart.

Whatever. Not his problem. He _liked_ them.

"Now," Rosalina paused dramatically. He raised an eyebrow at her theatrics. "For shoes."

"But... My shoes are fine."

They weren't, he knew. The tennis shoes were barely hanging together. His big toe was peeking out and the other had a loose sole and the laces were permanently knotted. She looked up with a cocked eyebrow, arms crossed.

"_Fine_. But only _one_ pair," he insisted.

A pair of black boots later and they were _finally_ done. _Thank. Fuck_.

Wait.

"What are we doing down here?"

"I know for a fact that Lance will not approve of you using his soaps long-term."

"Wait, all those were Lance's?" Jesus fuck on a cracker.

"Yup."

"Oh." Keith looked down the aisle, feeling his eyes widen. He wasn't sure what he was allowed to get. "I don't..."

"Please don't be a stereotypical boy and pick Axe."

Keith hesitated, unsure. "I just... None of the other foster parents let me pick. They just bought me whatever was cheapest."

"You can smell them," Rosalina offered. "See what you like?"

They were in the aisle for nearly fifteen minutes as Keith took his time to sniff each soap and deodorant he thought he would like. There were so many different smells! He could see Rosalina smiling that soft, sad smile again, but it looked almost... _fond_. He almost preened under the attention. He wasn't being berated or anything. In fact, this whole thing had been... kind of fun, really. Akwardness aside. He could feel his shoulders loosen, just a little. She wasn't... so bad, really.

Once he found what he liked, he dropped a few bottles and a two-pack of deodorant into the cart. It startled Rosalina. Oops.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked after she recovered.

He shook his head no. Rosalina conceded and moved the cart towards the checkouts. As they passed, she grabbed a package of black hair ties.

At the checkout, Keith's eyes grew wider and wider as the total grew and grew and grew. "Rosalina," he said urgently, fists clenched tight at his sides. "Rosalina. We need to put some of this back. It's too much—"

Rosalina held his gaze as she swiped her card. "Keith, kindly be quiet. I already told you, and we are not going to argue about this again."

He scowled at her, crossing his arms and glaring as the total continued to rise. _Jesus_. It was almost five hundred dollars! How the _fuck_ was he supposed to pay all this back? But... he almost had the feeling that she wasn't going to make him pay her back, that she had bought him these clothes out of the kindness of her heart.

In the car, Keith slumped in his seat and stared out the window. He was done. He wanted to just... cry, or something.

_Keep your shit together, stupid._

Keith helped her unload and take off tags, but then excused himself to his room. He needed to be alone. He ran his fingers through his hair, clutching at the strands and hissing at the sharp sting in his scalp. He needed... needed...

But then she knocked on the door. "Keith?" she asked. "Keith? Can I come in?"

He opened the door. It was dark in the room, curtains drawn shut tight, and he hadn't bothered to turn on the lights since he kind of had just planned on collapsing and going back to bed. He didn't want to deal with this. "Yeah?" He hoped his voice didn't betray that he was close to crying.

"Everything okay?"

And she actually sounded like she fucking _cared_.

"Keith, what's wrong?"

"I don't understand why you're being so nice to me." His voice cracked and he could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks. He pushed them away with gloved palms, relishing in the cool, smooth leather that brushed his skin.

Rosalina cupped his face in her hands, bringing him closer so she could wipe the tears away with her thumbs. After a moment, she drew him closer, wrapping her arms around him, cradling his head in her hand and resting it on her shoulder.

It was in that moment that Keith realized he thirsted, hungered, _craved_ for this sort of touch. So, so desperate for it. He drank in her comfort like he guzzled water in the desert, realizing that it had been well over a year since anyone had hugged him. Not since—Not since Shiro, at least.

He realized, then, that he had been _lonely_, out there in the desert.

And he never, ever wanted to go back.

He wrapped his arms tentatively, gently, around her, afraid she would take the comfort away, laugh in his face. Sobs shook his body without his permission. He was so _weak_. A _hug_ had him bawling like a fucking baby.

"Shh, baby," she whispered into his ear. She ran her fingers through his hair and it felt so, _so_ good. "It's okay. You're okay. You're gonna be okay, now."

Keith cried like that for a while, and he was glad that she let him. He drank it all, wolfed it down, crammed it into the deepest, darkest parts of himself, tried to fill himself anew. And then he found himself babbling, saying, "None of the fosters were ever this _nice_. And the last ones—They abandoned me." Why was he even telling her all that? She wasn't going to believe him. No one ever did. "The last fosters. They got mad because—and they made me pack my things and drove me out to the desert and... and..."

"Shh, baby," she soothed, rocking him back and forth as he broke out into more sobs. "You're not going anywhere. You can't do a thing to make me get rid of you."

"But I'm—" Keith choked on a breath and pushed away, angrily wiping away his tears as he stumbled back into his room. No. He needed to get away from her. He was going to _taint_ her. "I'm angry and violent and worthless and—and—and _gay_," he spat out.

_("Get your shit," she had said, sneering down at him as he held his stinging cheek._

_They drove and drove and drove and drove, out into the desert, into the maze of plateaus. _

_The man pulled Keith from the jeep, dumping him on the __**hot hot hot hot hot too hot**__ sand. It burned him and he hissed, scrambling to get up. His bag clipped him on the face as the man threw it at him and he fell back to the __**hot hot hot hot hot**__ sand, clenching his eyes shut to keep the stinging tears back. He wouldn't give these fuckers the satisfaction of seeing him cry and beg._

"_We'll let God sort you out, faggot," the man said, spitting on him. "Perhaps you'll repent of your sins out here."_

_A bag of water and granola bars smacked into his shoulder and spilled all over the sand._

_They drove away, going the same direction they had been headed. Keith wasn't sure how to get back to civilization. They had been driving for hours and hours and hours with no signs of civilization._

_Keith stood and watched the sun creep near the horizon.)_

Rosalina grabbed his face again, too hard. He winced, but didn't try to pull away. Instead of hitting him, she pulled him closer until he looked her in the eye. Her eyes were a deep brown—the kindness was replaced with anger. She was going to kick him out—

"I don't _ever_," she hissed, "want to hear you say it like that ever again, you hear me? There is _nothing_ wrong with being gay. _Nothing_. You are a sweet, wonderful, scared little boy. You are not angry, you are not violent, and being gay is not wrong."

Keith let out a broken sob, clutching her arms so tight she would probably bruise. He didn't understand, didn't understand—_couldn't_ understand. She wasn't angry? _Why_? And she was saying such nice things about him.

He didn't understand.

"I'm sorry. I just—"

"You're safe here," she murmured, finally loosening her grip. "You won't have to leave if you don't want to."

His heart skipped a beat. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Rosalina stared hard at him, as if trying to come to a decision. "I don't break my promises," she finally said, voice hard and determined.

* * *

After what felt like hours of crying, Keith fell into bed. Rosalina let him, disappearing somewhere in the house. He cradled the picture of him and his dad close, wishing, for a moment, fruitlessly, that his dad had never died.

It was useless, but he wished all the same.

Rosalina woke him at noon and he stumbled out blearily to choke down the sandwich she had made him. She handed him his freshly washed clothes in a basket that he dropped at the end of his bed to flop back onto the bed. Thinking better of it, he got back up and looked through the clothes for that space cat shirt and the space cat hoodie and sweatpants. They were heavy. Warm. Felt like someone was hugging him. The clothes smelled fresh—like home.

Rosalina grabbed him for dinner. No one spoke to him, but that was okay. He wasn't up to it, couldn't form a coherent thought very well, anyway. Rosalina urged him to take a shower and he did, using his new soaps and putting the space cat clothes back on. He went back to bed, curled up under the blankets. The knife was in the bedside table drawer.

For the first time in a long, long time, Keith felt a flicker of hope.


	3. Didn't Sign Up for this BS

Altea High was big.

Enrolling wasn't actually that difficult. But Keith didn't like being there. Didn't like being closed in, being surrounded by so many people. The two getting him enrolled—Alfred and Coran, or something—claimed there were almost four hundred students. _Four! Hundred!_ What. The. _Fuck_. That meant four hundred hormonal teenagers bumping into him and causing drama and being loud and—

Coran presented a manila folder titled "Keith's Plan to Success!" It was covered in glittering stars. Keith rolled his eyes and he heard Rosalina snicker behind her hand.

What was cool, though, was that they were talking to _him_ instead of Rosalina. They were letting _him_ decide how his day would go, what he was going to learn, and contingency plans for if he got too worked up and overwhelmed.

"We want you to catch up, after all!" Coran exclaimed.

He... wasn't so bad, really.

"We have a specialized acceleration program," Coran explained, twirling the end of his mustache and puffing his chest out proudly. "We tailor the program to each student and we talk at the end of each week to make sure we're still on track or if we need to reevaluate our plan of attack."

The principal chuckled at this, patting the other man's shoulder to calm him down. "You'll meet in Coran's room every day and do your work in there where you can go at your own pace," he said in his smooth, rich British accent. If Keith had to guess. Coran sounded like he was from New Zealand or Australia or something. Similar, but not quite. "Some students bring in music to help them concentrate, but you must wear headphones so as not to disturb the other students. Of course, when the bell rings you're free to roam the halls and visit with friends during the passing period, and you'll have lunch with them as well."

"We're hoping," Coran picked up, "that you will finish the sophomore coursework by the end of February so you can complete the junior accelerated coursework by the end of May and thus join your peers for your senior year!"

Keith found it kind of... _odd_ that they were planning that far out. He hoped, sure, that he would last more than a few months with the McClains, but...

That was a lot to ask for. How the hell was he supposed to get through _two years'_ worth of information in—_seven months_?!

Keith sat back. His eyes darted to Rosalina, gauging her reaction. Was she expecting him to get through it that quickly? Would she be mad if he wasn't able to?

Rosalina placed a gentle hand over his, clenched tight around his armrests. "It's okay, Keith. You don't have to do it that quick if you don't want to. If you need the extension into the summer or even next year, that's okay, too! We won't be disappointed."

He felt his face warm at that and he looked away from her. "Okay," he said quietly.

While Coran led Keith on a tour of the school, Rosalina stayed with the principal to continue the conversation. She probably needed to pay some fees or fill out paperwork or something.

Keith listened to the man babble as they walked through the hallways. Coran pointed out every single room—most of which Keith would probably never step foot in, but whatever—and gestured widely with his arms.

The man was... okay. At least he was friendly and didn't treat Keith like he was a nuisance.

* * *

Keith wouldn't start school until the following Monday.

"To get you used to people again, first," Rosalina said as they shared a meal for lunch in celebration of getting him enrolled. "Oh," she added, interrupting him as he went to put a fry in his mouth. He lowered the fry, quirking that eyebrow at her. "We do family dinners every Sunday, so you'll meet the rest of my children and some of their kids."

"Oh. Uh... Okay?"

Rosalina shrugged, taking a fry from the plate between them as she continued, "There will be Luis, my oldest, and his wife Lisa and their two kids, then Marco and Veronica and Rachel, so there will be an extra seven people in the house. I'm just letting you know."

"Oh. Uh. Thanks."

He just hoped they weren't all like Lance.

* * *

Sunday was awful. Absolutely, utterly awful.

Everyone wanted to meet him, bustling around him and cornering him at the table. Lance and the two little kids he saw earlier had vanished. The others, though, were interrogating him and asking him invasive questions like what kind of underwear he wore and if he was a bigot and just really weird, random stuff that didn't make sense.

Marcus, at least, was at least trying to help run interference. He sat next to Keith, pretending to be a lawyer with an upturned nose at his children, telling him in a playfully haughty tone after each question, "You don't need to answer that, Mr. Kogane." Sometimes he threw in a, "These _heathens_ are bloodthirsty animals." He grinned and winked at Keith, and it made him feel more relaxed.

But it only inspired the other adults to continue, asking more and more outrageous questions as time went on.

"Alright, alright." Rosalina tapped—Luis, Keith thought—on the head, mid-question. "That's enough. Let the poor boy be. Keith, why don't you go talk with Sylvio and Nadia? I'm sure they're less exhausting than this group of hooligans."

Keith took that opportunity to scamper out to the living room as quick as he could. He stopped just outside the door, though, wondering what they had to say once they thought he couldn't hear them.

"Hey, we were having fun!" he heard one of the girls—Veronica, maybe—complain.

"And Keith was getting overwhelmed," he heard Rosalina reply. "You do remember what I told you, right?"

What... had she told them? About him being in the desert? That he was a crybaby?

Keith clenched his fists and stalked into the living room. The kids jumped up at his arrival and pulled him to sit next to a woman. Lisa, she introduced herself. Sylvio and Nadia crowded his knees as they asked more innocent questions. What's your favorite color? What's your favorite animal? Do you like to color? Lance pouted from the floor where he had been abandoned.

"I don't think I've ever colored before," he answered honestly. It had been—years, maybe, if he had. He vaguely recalled some paper and some crayons in a play room where his first social worker had urged him to draw after his dad died.

The kids gasped in unison. "You never colored?" the boy asked. Sylvio, right?

"Keith, you must color with us _now_," Nadia demanded.

They pulled him to the floor next to Lance and shoved an animal coloring book into his hands. "Pick one!"

He looked through each page, going through the entire book before picking one out. Some of the pages had already been colored messily, so he skipped over those and picked out a hippo. He colored it purple with great concentration. If he was going to color, he was going to do it _right_. Lance was coloring in the Ariel coloring book, and Nadia and Sylvio were sharing a farm one. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rosalina sit down next to Lisa to watch.

"Keith likes hippos, abuelita," Sylvio said somberly. Kids were so weird. Was _he_ that weird as a kid?

"Yeah," Nadia agreed with her older brother. "You should get him hippo sheets."

Keith rolled his eyes when Rosalina chuckled. "Would you like some hippo sheets?" she teased, snickering when his pale cheeks flushed a light pink.

"I'm fine without them," he muttered to the book, diligently coloring in the grass a bright green. Maybe he could add some shading? Make it look nice?

"Why are you coloring it purple?" Nadia asked, ponytail swinging as she crowded his space.

"I had a purple hippo," he said quietly, tapping the image. "When I was really little."

"What happened to it?"

Keith shrugged, feeling small when he replied, "Got lost, I suppose." He slowed in his coloring until he stopped, gazing down at the picture but not quite seeing it.

What _had_ happened to it? He remembered having it for a long time, certainly while his dad was alive. By the time dad had died, it had been a little roughed up, an eye had been replaced and he remembered standing next to his dad, clutching his leg and watching with wide eyes as his dad had sewn the leg back on after a tumble off the porch. Keith remembered having it at least at the first foster home, crying into the soft purple animal, wishing his dad wasn't gone, wishing his mom would come back and comfort him.

He remembered a foster sibling teasing him for being too old with a stuffed animal.

He remembered throwing it away and regretting it almost immediately after.

Rosalina stood, Nadia on her hip and jerking Keith from his memories. When had that happened? She was quick to put both their shoes on and cheerfully bid the confused others goodbye, please watch the food, we'll be back!

O_kay_...

Nadia burst through the door calling for Keith not too terribly long after they had disappeared. He was still in the living room, coloring a new page with Sylvio and letting the kid choose how they colored. Lance had wondered off, but Lisa was still watching over them with a weird smile. Nadia threw herself at Keith, a stuffed purple hippo grasped in her arms. Keith just barely caught her without toppling over, eyes wide as he reared back to look at her. His eyes darted down to the hippo.

"What...?"

Nadia pressed it to his chest, grinning cheekily up at him. "I got you a hippo 'cuz you said you lost yours. Look! It's purple!"

Something tight squeezed in his chest. Nadia—and Rosalina, he supposed—bought him a hippo to replace his old one? _Why?_

Shit. He could feel thick, fat, stupid tears gathering in his eyes. Nadia frowned, looking down at the hippo still in her hands. "Do you not like it?"

"I love it." Something caught in Keith's throat, making his voice thick with emotion that he tried to swallow down. He brushed away his tears. "Thank you, Nadia. That was... very nice of you." He gently took the hippo from her and ran his fingers over the soft snout. It was kind of goofy looking, and it didn't look at all like his had, so many years ago, but... "I'm gonna go put him in my room so he doesn't get dirty, okay?"

Nadia slipped off his lap, letting him stand and stumble to his room. He fell to the bed and clutched the hippo close to his chest, trying hard not to let his crying get too loud. His chest hurt too much and he squeezed the hippo as close as he could.

He didn't come out until Rosalina got him for dinner.


	4. What Mama Don't Know

Keith had been there for only a little over a week. It was Thursday of his second week and he was shut in his room, after he had mumbled something about homework before almost slamming the door shut. He flinched; he hadn't meant to slam the door. But he was frustrated, okay? He had so much homework to do and he was so fucking tired after staying up late every night trying to get it all done.

But then he heard the cabinets and the fridge open and slam shut.

Shit. Was Rosalina mad?

He quietly crept from his room and listened at the doorway, just out of sight. He needed to do his homework, yes, but it was better to be prepared and know if they were angry at him.

"We don't slam doors, Lance."

"You let _Keith_ slam the doors."

Oh fuck.

"And I'll talk with him about it after dinner," Rosalina replied, setting something on the table. Shit. He was going to be in so much trouble. "Lance."

Lance slammed another cabinet.

"Lance. Sit."

He slammed the utensil drawer shut. The silverware inside jingled and clanged together unpleasantly. Keith felt the rattling in his bones.

"_Now_."

Lance huffed but a moment later a chair screeched across the tile.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"_Nothing_."

"_Lance_."

"_Mom_."

Keith heard Rosalina sigh. "You're jealous," Rosalina said quietly. What? "You're jealous of Keith." _What?!_ Why would _anyone_ be jealous of _him_? "Why?"

"You let him get away with stuff like slamming doors and he doesn't join us after dinner and I tried to invite him to play video games with me but he said it was _stupid_ and he had homework and he's too _smart_ for me and you pay more attention to him than me and you like him more than me and—" He broke off into a sob. Keith's heart started to race.

Fuck. He made their kid cry. He was going to be beaten, or kicked out, or moved to another home.

Fuck. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_.

And he had _liked_ it here, too.

"Oh, Lance," he heard her murmur. Keith looked around the doorway to see her moving around to sit next to Lance and pull him close. He clung tightly to her, sobbing into her shirt. Something in Keith's chest squeezed unpleasantly at the sight. "He's still adjusting. You know he was missing out in the desert for so long, remember? Just because he's here and needs my love doesn't mean that I love you any less."

Keith's breath caught. She—She wasn't—

He must have made too much noise because she lifted her head to look up at him. He startled at her gaze, then ducked out of sight and hurried back to his room.

He was so _confused_. What did she mean, that he needed her love? Did that mean she wasn't mad? That she wasn't going to kick him out? Should he start packing, just in case? All he had was the two backpacks (Rosalina had insisted he throw out the old one, but he smuggled it under his bed, just in case). Maybe Rosalina would be kind enough to let him pack before she kicked him out? Would she let him take the clothes she'd bought him last week? She said they were for him, but...

He took the books from his bag, setting them on the desk, just in case. He pulled out his mother's knife, setting it on the night stand so he could wrap it up in a shirt or something first. The hippo on his bed caught his attention. Surely—Surely if she had bought that for him, that meant she liked him at least a little, right?

Someone knocked on the door. He flinched, but took a deep breath. He couldn't hide, no matter how much he wanted to.

Keith quickly answered, not wanting to anger her further. He held a firm, determined gaze, chin tilted up slightly in defiance. "Rosalina," he intoned. He couldn't let her know he was afraid. She would just use that against him.

"May I come in, Keith?"

Instead of replying, he just stepped back and motioned her in.

Rosalina sat on the bed and pointed to his night stand. _Shit_. "I didn't know you had a knife."

Keith froze half-way into sitting in the chair. He slowly lowered himself the rest of the way down, eyes steadfast on her. He hadn't meant to leave it out. Was she going to take it away? "It was my mom's," he said slowly. "My dad gave it to me when I was young."

"Do you mind if I look at it?"

Surprised, he blinked at her. "Uh, yeah, I don't mind." Maybe she would be less mad if he let her look at it.

Rosalina picked it up and turned it in her hands before sliding it from the sheath. It was a beautiful blade, something Keith hadn't ever seen elsewhere, especially not the symbol etched into the jewel. He'd tried to figure out what it meant—many hours spent in the library until he was kicked out took up most of his weekends after his dad had died.

"It's beautiful," she said softly, almost reverently.

"Are you going to take it away from me?" Cold fear gripped at him.

"No. I won't confiscate it, as long as you only use it for self-defense," she answered.

"I promise," he said, maybe a little too eagerly. But he needed to keep it. He may hate his mother for abandoning him and never coming back, especially when he needed her, but... It was the only thing he had of her.

Rosalina slid it back into its sheath. "I wanted to talk to you."

"You're sending me away," he replied, carefully keeping his tone even.

The knife almost dropped from her hand. She placed it back carefully before turning to him. "No, no! Keith, why would you think that?"

"I made Lance cry."

"Everything makes Lance cry," she said, rolling her eyes. "He thinks you don't like him."

"I like him!" Keith shot forward in his chair, trying to convey how sincere he was. "I don't hate him. I just—What he said in the kitchen—I don't—I gotta get this homework done so I can—"

"You need a _break_, Keith." She studied him for a moment, narrowing her eyes. He turned away from her scrutinizing gaze. He didn't like how she was looking at him. "How late do you stay up doing work?"

"I don't see what that has to do with—"

"How late?"

Shrugging, Keith crossed his arms and continued to look at the corner of the room. He didn't want to see her reaction, but he kept her in the corner of his gaze, just in case. "I dunno. Late. Midnight. Two."

"_Keith_."

"I have a lot to catch up on!"

"Not at the expense of your health!" she shouted right back. Keith flinched at the angry tone. Fuck. He fucked up. "I'm sorry for yelling, Keith. I'm not mad at you. Just... disappointed. I thought you knew you didn't have to push yourself so hard."

He brought his knees up to hug against his chest, wanting to be small, be safe. "I don't wanna disappoint you by not catching up, though."

The room was small enough that Rosalina could reach out and touch his wrist. He held back his gasp, desperately wanting the careful, gentle touch to continue. Maybe she would hug him, too? "I want you to be healthy, first and foremost. I don't care if it takes you three extra years to graduate. So I'm making a new rule, okay?" She waited for Keith to acknowledge her before continuing, "You will only work on schoolwork until dinner. And then after dinner you are to _relax_. You will bring me all your homework when it's time for dinner and it is going in my room until you leave for school in the morning."

"But—"

"This is non-negotiable."

Keith huffed, but a small smile twitched at the corner of his lips. She... cared enough to make a rule so he wouldn't overwork himself. "Fine."

With a quiet sigh, she stood and placed a hand on his head. He blinked up at her, confused. It was... nice. Kind of like when Shiro was proud of him. Could he ask her for a hug? He wanted one, so badly.

"I just want what's best for you, Keith."

He looked away, mumbling into his knees.

"What was that?"

"Does Lance hate me?" he asked louder, propping his chin on his knees instead of hiding behind them. He still couldn't meet her gaze, trying to dredge up the bravery to ask for a hug.

"Of course not. He just wants you to like him." She bopped his nose, smiling when he crossed his eyes to try to see her finger. What the fuck. "The easiest way to get him to like you is to pay attention to him."

"He's just so... _much_."

Rosalina laughed when he scrunched up his face. "I know."

He never dredged up the courage to ask, and she didn't offer.

* * *

As threatened, Rosalina took Keith's books away. He glared the entire time, staring at the hallway with crossed arms as they watched TV. But he didn't last long before exhaustion pulled him under.

* * *

The next night, Lance pushed Rosalina and Marcus into their room. "Me and Keith claim the living room!"

"Huh?" was Keith's eloquent reply, squeaking when Lance tugged him towards the living room.

They were creating a blanket fort. At least, that's what Lance claimed. There were sheets and chairs still being arranged as Lance jabbered on and on about Mario Kart and how he was going to kick Keith's butt. Keith rolled his eyes, but followed Lance's directions quietly, making small noises to urge Lance to continue talking. Keith couldn't help smiling at the boy's antics. It was kind of adorable. Like a puppy.

Eventually, their fort was complete and Lance dashed off to the kitchen for snacks. Keith stood just beside the fort, running his hand over one of the sheets with a smile on his face. There was an opening facing the TV, controllers for the old Nintendo 64 pulled out and ready for play. All the extra pillows and comforters had made their way inside the fort, making it look extra comfortable.

"Mom! Dad! I said go away!"

Keith startled, looking back to the hallway to see Rosalina and Marcus scurry away. Lance came stomping in and dumped the snacks at the entry before crawling into their fort.

"Come on, dude." Lance patted the space beside him. "Get in."

Keith gave him a tentative grin before crawling in as well. "I can't say I've ever been in a blanket fort before."

"_Never_?"

He shrugged, tugging at the sleeves of the cat hoodie. "No? It was just me and my dad, and I wasn't good at making friends. And then he died and I got bounced around to different foster homes. None of the kids really liked me that much, at least not enough to let me be included..." He hugged his knees to his chest, biting his lip. Had he said too much?

"Dude, that sucks," Lance said, pulling the snacks in. "At least you have me to show you how to properly do a pillow fort."

"Look, Lance," he started, pausing when Lance looked up at him. He didn't look... angry at him, which Keith didn't really understand. Why wasn't he mad? "I'm—I'm sorry."

"Okay?" Lance frowned back at him. "What for? Did you steal my toothbrush and scratch your butt with it or something?"

"_What?!_"

"It's a valid question!"

"No! I didn't!" Keith scowled at the snacks next to Lance. There was a bowl of popcorn and pretzels and at least four different bottles of soda and some M&Ms and—was all of that really necessary? "I—I'm sorry that I made you cry."

"Dude, everything makes me cry." Lance waved it away with a grin. "Mama says it's okay for boys to cry, too, and that bottling it up will only make you constipated."

Keith gave him a disbelieving look. "I don't think not crying will keep you from taking a shit."

"That's not what—" Lance groaned, tipping back and falling with a soft thump onto the pillows behind him. "Like, emotionally constipated. If you bottle it all up and don't have a healthy outlet for it, it just... stays there. And it's toxic for your body. All that stress and anger and sadness just fills and fills and fills you up until one day..." Lance mimed an explosion with a tiny sound effect, still watching the blankets above them. Keith stayed curled up by the entrance, watching him. "You explode and you can't find the pieces again."

Huh. Made sense, he supposed.

"Look. Point is," Keith said, looking away, "I'm sorry that I made you feel bad. I was just stressed because I have two years' worth of fuckin homework to get through before the end of May."

"It's okay," Lance replied, maybe a bit too happily. Keith had made him cry and made him feel bad. How was he just so... okay with it? "I forgive you."

"Just like that?" Keith asked, a little disbelieving.

"Mom says I'm too trusting," Lance said with a half-hearted shrug. "Too forgiving. She thinks it'll get me in trouble one day, but..." He smiled softly, just for Keith. "I'd rather be too loving than too hateful, yanno?"

Keith shrugged back. "I guess..."

Lance sat back up with a grin. "Let play some Mario Kart. And I'm gonna win."

Keith grinned back. "You wish."

* * *

After their Mario Kart tournament (in which Keith won at _least_ twice even though it was his first time playing, _thank you_) they put up their snacks and brushed their teeth. Lance herded him back to the fort, claiming, "We spent too much time on this beauty. Mom's gonna make us clean it up tomorrow and _trust_ me, there's something special about sleeping in a blanket fort."

Keith didn't see it, but whatever. He wanted to make it up to Lance for being so awful to him the past week.

They settled down, curled close but not quite touching. Keith wanted to ask if they could cuddle. He'd seen the three of them constantly touching each other with gentle, caring touches. Keith wanted to be part of it, too. He was so hungry for it, wanting someone to wrap their arms around him—

"Can I ask you a question?" Lance asked softly.

It was dark, so Keith couldn't see his expression. And Lance was... right, really. There was something—_magical_ about being in the blanket fort, trying to sleep. Like they were caught between two worlds, or merging into a magical one. It made him feel soft, vulnerable, but safe, too.

"Yeah?" Keith replied, just as softly. He was afraid to break whatever was happening.

"You... You said—and I was just wondering, but," Lance stammered. A hand reached out and touched his, curled close to his chest. "Did anyone—You're so—" Lance huffed a laugh, but Keith had no idea what he was trying to say. "You seem like you haven't really gotten a lot of people who cared about you," he finally said. "Not since your dad, maybe? Like. When was the last time someone, like, cuddled you? Because I've seen how you watch us when we do."

Well, shit. Keith hadn't thought that he had made those expressions so loud. People always told him he always looked mad, no matter what he was actually feeling.

"There was one foster kid that—we cuddled, sometimes," Keith admitted. "And there's this guy—he was my mentor, sort of? We were in this Big Brother program, you know? And—he got paired with me and—but I haven't seen him in a long time. But... No one, really."

Lance was quiet for a long moment. Keith almost thought he had fallen asleep, but then Lance drew in a breath. "Do you want a hug?"

That something squeezed in his chest again and tears made his eyes hot. Lance was offering? After how _awful_ Keith had treated him? Yes, yes, he _did_ want a hug. He _did_ want someone to hold him tight, never let him go.

"Yeah," he choked out. "I'd like that."

Lance surged forward and drew him in, clutching right back as Keith fisted the back of Lance's shirt. _Fuck_. Lance hugged him so tight that Keith could hardly breathe, that his ribs ached and creaked and groaned and rattled with every breath and sob as Keith cried into Lance's shirt. Lance was so _warm_. And it was stupid, that he was crying, but he just—he had to. His chest felt too tight, too heavy, and he wanted Lance to squeeze it all out of him.

Lance ended up rolling partially on top of him at some point, still holding him close after wrapping them in a tight roll—something Lance had called a "burrito" with a chuckle. "Sometimes," Lance said, after Keith had quieted down to just small sniffles, "when I'm really upset, my best friend—Hunk, you should meet him soon—will roll me up like this and call me a Lance Burrito. The pressure is kind of nice, right?"

Yeah, it really was. Even if he was starting to sweat.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Keith asked into Lance's shirt.

"Shoot."

Keith was quiet, for a moment, then took a deep breath. "The desert... was sort of nice, you know? I didn't have to—see those families give each other affection that made me feel... empty. Hungry. For—for someone to touch me, too. And no one could hurt me, anymore." He took another deep breath. "I wanted to die, out there."

Lance's breath hitched and he pulled Keith impossibly closer.

"Do you still want to? Die?"

Keith didn't answer for a long moment. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes and squeezing Lance tighter. He didn't want to answer. "Sometimes."

Lance squeezed him so tight it was nearly painful. It hurt, but it was also comforting, like Lance was trying to merge them into one person through sheer will alone, or was trying to osmosis comfort to him by squeezing the life out of him. "Keith—"

"Don't tell Rosalina. Or Marcus. Or anyone. Please. I'm—" Keith drew in a stuttering breath. "I'm getting better. It hasn't even been two weeks but—You guys—You guys are the best foster family I've ever lived with. And I—And I want to try. I don't—want to die so much anymore. And I hate therapists, and drugs. They made me—they made me when I was little, after dad died, and I can't—I _can't_—"

Lance shushed into his hair as he started crying again. "Okay, hermanito. I won't. Just you and me. Just... _please_. Don't—Don't kill yourself, okay?"

"'Kay," he said, feeling small.

They fell asleep like that and woke up to tangled limbs and sweat and blankets twisted around them. And Lance laughed and raced him to the kitchen, like they'd never been strangers.


	5. The Power of Short-Shorts

The entire way home, Lance ignored him and glared and snarled any time Keith tried to ask what was wrong. Keith only tried twice, shrinking back when Lance snapped at him. What had he done wrong?

The front door closed with a harsh thud. Keith flinched, but did his best not to dart away from the angry boy.

"Good afternoon, boys!" Rosalina called as they passed by the kitchen. "How was school?"

Lance passed right by without a word.

Shit.

He didn't slam the bathroom door. A few moments passed and then an upbeat song was blaring from the bathroom.

... What?

Rosalina sighed and pulled out some ingredients. Keith wasn't sure what for. He paused, wanting to ask, but thought better of it and stalked off to his own room. His door shut a little harder than he had wanted and he winced, waiting for her to yell at him.

Nothing.

With a sigh, he got to work, trying his hardest to block out the music on constant repeat.

An hour and a half later of that stupid song on constant repeat, Keith slammed open his door and started pounding on the bathroom door. "What the hell, Lance! It's been an hour and a half! Shut up and let me in!"

"Fuck off!"

"Keith, you can use mine."

The song continued blaring. Keith decided that her permission was good enough and stalked off to her room and into the bathroom. What was Lance's _problem_?

When he exited Rosalina's bathroom, she called him back to the kitchen. He shuffled in, head low and to try to hide his scowl. _Great_. Now he was going to be in trouble because of Lance. He sat at her request, arms crossed and glare turned towards the hallway where the music was still on repeat.

"Keith." He turned his glare towards her. "Please let him do this. He had a rough day at school. He..." She hesitated, as if trying to decide the right words. But she didn't sound like she was going to chew him out. "He used to hurt himself. Some kids weren't very receptive of him being bi and he's bullied at school. He'd come home and... never anything permanent, but." She sighed, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. So... Lance wasn't straight, either? No wonder Rosalina had been so receptive of him being gay. And Lance used to hurt himself, too? Why... hadn't he said anything that night they had bonded? "We came to this agreement. Instead of hurting himself he would turn it into something positive and creative. And how he plays his music tells me what's wrong if he can't find the words."

Keith's foot tapped against the tile, thinking. He was a little hurt Lance hadn't told him, but—then again, it wasn't like they were super close. "It's annoying."

"I know you were in silence out in the desert," she said calmly, as if trying to soothe a wild animal. Was that all he was? "This doesn't happen often. Just when it's too overwhelming for him."

"Okay," he replied slowly, glaring at the table. "So what's this song saying?"

"He was made fun of for liking boys. And if it's coming from the bathroom, it means it was really bad and he's doing a full self-care routine. Bath, facemask, makeup, dressing up. The louder it is the worse it is."

"I see," he said to the table. She allowed Lance, a boy, to do makeup? "Why hasn't the principal done anything? I thought he didn't tolerate this sort of thing."

Rosalina sighed and ran a hand through her hair again. "We tried, but... He can only do so much. It's a he-said-she-said situation, apparently, and the right people haven't witnessed it or not enough students have come up. The bullies... their parents have quite a bit of say on the board, apparently. And detentions don't do much. They just come right back even worse."

"That's stupid."

"It is."

Keith sat in silence for several minutes, staring at the table and tapping his fingers on the wood. Without a word, he stood and went back to his room.

Lance helped him that night and gave him the comfort he had desperately needed. It was Keith's turn to return the favor. He just had to figure out how.

* * *

Not even a week later, Lance came home and went straight to his room to blare that stupid song again. Keith wasted no time, throwing his bag towards his room and pounding on Lance's door.

"Open the door!" he shouted. This was his chance, before Lance started getting into it again. "Lance! Make me pretty, too!"

The door opened, the music swelling as Lance watched Keith for several long moments through narrowed eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Make me pretty, too. _Please_," he added, disgruntled.

Lance studied him in silence for a long, long moment. The song continued to blast behind him. It started over, and Keith never budged. He was stubborn—_knew_ he was stubborn, _knew_ he would and could outlast Lance. Lance opened the door wider, bowing and motioning for Keith to come in.

Keith made quick work to turn the music off. Lance shouted an indignant "hey!" behind him.

"I'm not listening to this song again," Keith grumbled, scowling and crossing his arms. "I get it—the guys were mean to you at school and called you names. Listen up, _sweet-cheeks_." Lance flinched at the words. "We're gonna deal with this but I cannot listen to that fuckin' song one more goddamn time."

Lance heaved a sigh with a roll of his eyes. "We need montage music, then."

"None of your pop shit."

"_Fine_. Pick something out, then."

Lance thrusted the iPod into his hands. Several moments of silence passed as he scrolled through the albums, trying to find _something_ he would like. Ah-_ha_! He smirked as _Panic! At the Disco_ burst from the speakers. He quickly turned down so they could still hear each other.

"_Really_?"

"You don't have The Classic Crime, so yeah."

Lance's eyebrow shot up. "Wow, buddy. You sure are something."

"Shut up and make me pretty."

"I kinda figured you were too straight for something like this."

Keith's own eyebrow crept up. Him? _Straight_? That was laughable. "Uh, no? I'm gay. Like, _really_ gay."

"_What_?"

"Yeah? It's not a secret."

"How come you didn't tell me?!" Lance looked hurt, which—weird. Wouldn't Rosalina have told him, or something? They told each other _everything_.

"I thought you knew!"

"How would I know! You're all—" Lance waved his arms around.

"Wow," Keith scoffed. He crossed his arms and glared at the other boy. Just because he wore dark clothes and looked grungy didn't mean he couldn't be gay. "Way to be stereotypical, Lance. Do I need to adopt a lisp to satisfy you?"

"_No_! I just—"

"Shut up. I was joking. _Ha __**ha**_."

"_You_ shut up."

"No. Now make me sexy. I've got a plan to get rid of your bullies. And to do that, I need to look sexy. And dangerous."

Lance rolled his eyes. "_Oh_-kay. Whatever you say, Brendon Urie."

"Weak."

"Shut up." Lance flushed and shoved Keith onto the bed. "So, I mean, what do you want me to do? Like, I know you said you wanted to be sexy and dangerous, but, dude, you gotta give me something to go off of."

Keith shrugged, suddenly feeling shy. "I dunno." He'd been thinking about it for the last few days. Rosalina said that he did makeup, presumably on himself. Keith hadn't seen it—Lance had probably cleaned it off before dinner. For a long time, Keith had always admired women and how pretty they were. Don't get him wrong—he was gay as all else and didn't want to be _with_ them, but...

He kind of wanted to be _like_ them.

He stiffened at the thought, breath coming short as he remembered one foster parent smacking him for playing dress up and putting on a dress with her daughter. Surely... Surely Rosalina and Marcus wouldn't be like that?

"Keith?" Lance asked softly, gently putting a hand on his knee. "What's wrong?"

Keith shook his head. "Sorry. Just—remembering. None of my last foster homes let me..."

"Did you want to put on makeup?"

There was a box on the bed, open and ready to be used. It was organized very professionally, Keith thought. "Yeah. I do."

Lance grinned at him, pulling the box closer. "Cool. I can do some killer wings, and I think red would look good on you." He continued to babble, pulling out the items that he needed. But then he stopped and hopped off the bed. "We need to change, first! So we don't get makeup on the clothes."

Keith followed him to his closet. He had a lot more clothes than Keith thought one boy needed, full of soft colors and softer materials. Lance shoved a pair of shorts at him and ordered him to change into them while he looked for a shirt.

Except, his underwear would definitely show at his legs, which he pointed out.

Curiously, Lance flushed and fiddled with his own pair of shorts. "Okay. You can say no, but... I have..." He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "I have some women's underwear? Some are still in the package and mom doesn't know about them. You can wear a pair, if you want. Just... don't tell mom, okay?"

Keith's cheeks heated at the thought. Wearing women's underwear? _Could_ he? Lance had implied that he had worn some before, so, surely...

"But," he found himself protesting. "I'm a guy..."

Cheeks still pink, Lance shrugged and pulled out the package from the back of one of his drawers. It was just a package from Walmart or Target or wherever, but they were... kind of cute. Keith pulled out the red pair with a tiny black bow on the front.

"I mean," Lance muttered, pulling out a light blue pair from the back of his underwear drawer. "It doesn't matter if—if it's 'women's underwear. Because—because there's nothing wrong with that. If we like it, then we shouldn't be afraid or ashamed."

Lance had a point. Keith bit his lip as he peeled the tape off to unroll the underwear. They were cotton, and soft.

He'd kind of always wanted to try on a pair.

"Okay," he said. "Turn around so I can put these on."

They were _super_ soft. And they hugged him gently, too, and felt really, _really_ nice. He really liked the little bow at the front. The shorts, too, hugged him and gave him a bit more support. They showed quite the bulge, but, whatever. He looked damn good in them, if he said so himself as he checked out his ass in the mirror.

"Hot damn, dude." Lance whistled low and appreciatively. Keith preened under the attention. "Let's go shave your legs, though. Like, _holy crow_, are you related to Big Foot or what?"

Keith rolled his eyes, but followed Lance to the bathroom so he could show Keith how to shave. It was rather easy, if cumbersome because of all the hair, and he only nicked himself once. But then Lance was pushing him back into his room and shoving a red crop top at him and babbling as he weaved Keith's hair into what he called a waterfall braid. Keith let him, smiling softly. He'd managed to turn Lance's sour mood around, anyway. That was good.

"How come you never told me you used to hurt yourself?" he found himself asking after Lance had prettied him up. He was looking at himself in the mirror to admire it, but looked up at Lance at his question.

Lance froze, the weird sponge thingy pressed to his eyelid. "Mom told you?"

"Yeah..."

He put down the brush, taking in a shaky breath. Keith set down his mirror. "I don't... like thinking about it. Or talking about it. I was fourteen and just figured out I liked boys enough to want to date them. Some of the other boys didn't like that." He shrugged and added softly, "I don't... do it anymore. And, yeah, before you asked, I was suicidal for a while. Mom... Mom doesn't know that part."

"I won't say anything," Keith promised.

Lance gave him a watery smile. "Can... Can I have a hug?"

And Keith found himself melting into Lance's arms. He wasn't sure how to really _give_ a hug, but he squeezed tight and tried his best. He reluctantly let go when Lance pulled away.

"Now finish your makeup," Keith smirked with a raised eyebrow. "You look kinda dumb with only one eye done."

"You shut your quiznack!"

* * *

Keith preened under Rosalina's attention when they came out for dinner.

"You boys look lovely," she said, elbowing Marcus to get his attention.

Marcus turned from where he was washing his hands and whistled. "Wow. Going out to a club or something?"

Keith felt—powerful, under their gaze. Dangerous. Confident. He drank in their praise, bottling it, trying to remember this feeling. He felt _good_ dressed like this, dressed like he had seen other women.

He'd have to convince Lance to do this tomorrow morning for school.

* * *

"Lance!" It was already six thirty in the morning and he needed Lance to do his hair and makeup! "Lance!" Pounding followed. "Lance! I need you to do my hair and makeup like yesterday!"

Lance blearily opened his door, looking at Keith with tired eyes and hair a mess. Keith was wearing the same outfit as last night, plus a red and black plaid flannel button up tied around his waist. He had debated if he would go commando or if he should wear the underwear Lance let him have, but decided that the underwear made him feel good, too. He almost wished they were silk, or lace, or something even more feminine, but he would have to make do with what he had.

"Uh. Why?"

"I told you I would take care of your bullying problem. I need you to do my hair and makeup."

"I don't see how this is supposed to help."

"We pretend to date, they corner us, and I beat the shit out of 'em." Rosalina cleared her throat. Keith merely glanced at her. "I know how to make it look like self-defense."

"_Keith_."

"_What_?" Keith crossed his arms and hid a smirk. "Bullies don't stop until you show them you aren't afraid."

* * *

"Wait, you're wearing your combat boots? With _that_?"

"You're right, it _would_ be more humiliating if I beat the shit out of him in high heels. But I've never worn them before and I don't know if I can fight in them and I don't feel like breaking an ankle today." Though, now that he thought about it... he kind of _did_ want some high heels.

"Not what I meant."

"Keith, it's December," Rosalina implored, glaring disapprovingly at his legs. "You're going to freeze."

He waved her off. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure this isn't against dress code?"

"Yeah, yeah." He waved her off. "I checked. It specifically says _girls_ cannot wear this. It doesn't say anything about guys wearing something like this."

* * *

"Put your hand in my pocket."

Lance wiggled his hand under the flannel shirt until he found the pocket.

"Other one."

Alrighty then.

Keith was escorting Lance to his next class. The plan was for Keith to do this for every class until Lance's bullies showed up. With how many heads were turning and the amount of whispers, it wouldn't be long. Keith felt good, _powerful_. He held his head high, swaying his hips and walking like he had seen confident, self-assured women walk. They would probably be ambushed by the next passing period. And, sure enough, when Keith picked Lance up to escort him to his third period, they were cornered at Lance's locker by three bulky boys.

Perfect.

From the corner of his eye, he saw kids recording them.

_Perfect_.

"Faggots." It was the tallest one, Sendak, Lance had said. Stupid name, really. Keith didn't bother to learn the other two's names. Sendak was the leader, and that's who he needed to focus on.

"You seem awfully concerned with us and our bedroom practices. Overly concerned, even. Do you think about guys having sex a lot?" Keith asked innocently, gently pushing Lance away. It wouldn't do for him to get hurt, after all.

Sendak pushed Keith into the lockers and started spitting insults.

Keith smirked. Without further ado, he kneed Sendak exactly where it would hurt the most and pushed him back. The second thug went down just as easily with a sweep of his foot. The third was downed with a well-placed flannel shirt to the face and a knee to the stomach. It only took seconds. Once they were all down, he took two steps to get even with Sendak. He pushed the boy over onto his back with his foot and kicked his hands away from his groin.

"Make a move," he warned with a low growl, placing his boot right over Sendak's junk, "and Junior gets it."

Sendak stopped moving. His goons didn't even try to get up. Keith pressed his foot down anyway. Sendak whimpered. "Mess with Lance again and I won't hesitate. Do I make myself clear?"

Sendak spat at Keith. It landed on his shirt. Keith looked down and cocked an eyebrow. But then Sendak was growling, "Whatever, fa—" He burst into a howl as Keith pressed down.

"I said," Keith said in a low tone, bending over and ignoring Sendak trying to get him off. His foot pressed harder against Sendak's trapped dick. "Do I make—myself—_clear_."

"Get off me!"

"Are you going to leave Lance and his friends alone?"

"_Yes_!"

"The rest of the students? Are you going to continue to bully them?"

"No! I swear it! Get off!"

Keith suddenly stood back and snatched his flannel shirt back. He tied it back around his waist and plucked one of the phones recording away from a student and made his way to the office before a teacher could stop him. Lance scurried to catch up to him.

* * *

"And that's how I got Sendak and his cronies permanently expelled and didn't get in trouble for it," Keith smirked, crossing his arms and feeling quite pleased with himself. He left out the parts where he had reveled in the adrenaline rush, welcomed the blood pounding through his veins, how powerful and confident he felt, though sad that he hadn't been able to take them down with heels like he had wanted. He brushed the thought aside, knowing he'd never get a pair unless he hid them.

It was one thing to have women's underwear in secret. It was another to have Rosalina _know_ he liked to wear any type of feminine clothing.

Rosalina and Marcus clapped as he concluded his story. And Lance was grinning, looking lighter and happier than he had since that first time he blared that stupid song.

"This calls for celebration!" Marcus declared, shoving away from the table with an awful screech. "Let's go! Fancy restaurant time!"

"Let me just change into pants," Keith said, looking down at his bare legs. "It's a little cold out there," he added with a smirk towards Rosalina. "I might freeze."

"Keith, I swear to God—"

But she wasn't mad. Maybe—Maybe he would be allowed to be sassy, like Rosalina had said his first night. Maybe he wouldn't get smacked for his smart mouth. And they didn't smack him, or order him to his room without dinner, or threaten him at all. Rosalina just placed her hand on his cheek and smiled, and Marcus was laughing too hard in the background, and Lance was almost falling out of his chair.

Maybe—Maybe he _would_ fit in here.


	6. Bubblegum B tch

"Keith! Lance!" Rosalina called, knocking on their doors as she passed. "Up and at 'em! We have things to do!"

Ugh. _Why_.

Keith shuffled into the room, knowing his hair was a mess, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Lance was right behind him, clinging to Keith's shirt. "What's goin' on?" Keith mumbled, looking blearily up at her as she flittered through the kitchen. Why the hell was she so energetic?

"We're going shopping!" Rosalina called out, setting out plates for their pancakes. "You wanted high heels, right?"

Keith perked right up, all traces of sleepiness gone. "What? Really?" He hadn't even asked, and—!

"Call it an early Christmas present," Rosalina replied with a raised eyebrow. She pointed her spatula at his plate. "You gonna eat or what?"

Keith immediately shoved half a pancake in his mouth.

* * *

"Hi!" The perky saleswoman approached them, eyeing them with a weird expression, failing to hide her confusion. It was probably because they were dressed up in crop tops and high rise shorts again and Lance had done their makeup. Keith had no problem strutting about. Lance, on the other hand, was shy and hiding behind them, constantly looking over his shoulder. "How can I help you... folks?"

Keith looked back at Rosalina. She just raised an eyebrow at him. Wait. She was expecting him to ask? He huffed and turned back to the saleswoman. Her nametag said her name was Sadie.

"I'm looking for high heels," he grumbled, crossing his arms and trying to quell his racing heart. Rosalina cleared her throat. He dropped his arms and rolled his eyes. Jesus. Didn't she know it was hard to be polite when his heart was in his throat? "_Please_."

"Oh." Sadie looked between him and Rosalina, still uncertain. "Certainly. Do you know what style you're looking for?"

"Whatever will humiliate men more when I kick their ass in self-defense while wearing them."

"_Keith_."

"It's _true_." _She knew this!_

Sadie looked back at Rosalina, unsure. "Have... you ever worn high heels before?"

"No."

"Stilettoes would be the most... _embarrassing_, but I don't suggest those for beginners," Sadie said thoughtfully, brushing her light hair from her face. It just fell right back where it was. "Especially if you're going to try to fight in them."

Keith grumbled under his breath, crossing his arms and looking away. "_Fine_."

Sadie walked away, calling out behind her as she walked towards some chairs, "Let's get your size, first. Some shoes probably won't go to your size if your feet are big enough."

"I don't have to buy you new shoes if you're going to be rude the entire time," Rosalina said, setting her bag next to Keith as he scowled up at her. Was she mad at him? "She is helping you. You have no reason to be rude. Fix your attitude or we're going home and you can come back later by yourself when you can behave."

Keith lowered his head and mumbled an apology. He really didn't want to go by himself, especially since he didn't know how people would react if he did. Would they think he was a pervert? This had been a bad idea. But, they were already there and taking up Sadie's time. Uncrossing his arms, he kept his head low, hands in fists in his lap. "I would really appreciate if you could help me find some high heels. Please."

Kneeled before him, Sadie patted his knee with a smile. "That's alright. Keith, was it?" He nodded, still not looking up. "Perk up! We're gonna find you a kick-ass pair of heels, yeah?"

"I'm gonna be the prettiest bitch in town."

Rosalina choked on her laughter. Lance had no qualms letting out a snort, and even Sadie couldn't hold in her laughter at his deadpan delivery. Keith couldn't help the tiny smirk.

Once they calmed down, Sadie figured out his size and looked around at the displays around them, tapping her lips in thought. "Okay. So we want to humiliate men but not break your ankle. Do you have a specific color in mind?"

"Black will go with most things," Lance muttered as he examined the shoes on the display beside him. "Red is sexier, but, if you like the color scheme you have going, black will keep it evened out."

Hmm. He _did_ like red, but it was true that black would go with more things so he could wear them more than with just certain outfits.

Sadie clapped her hands at Keith's nod. "How about I go get a few different styles in your size, you can try them on, and we'll go from there?"

"Sure."

Keith unlaced his boots while she disappeared to the back room. He kept his head low, bangs covering his face. "I'm sorry, Rosalina."

"I'm sorry, too, Keith." She sat at the edge of the chair she had placed her purse. "I didn't mean to be short with you." She placed a gentle hand on his bare knee. Her hand was warm, despite how cold it had been outside. "I know you're probably nervous—"

"But you being 'short' with me helped me not be so nervous anymore." He twisted his fingers together. "Or, at least not be defensive about it. I was just... afraid she was going to make fun of me."

"What happened to you not giving a damn?" Lance called from a few tables over. He waved one of the weirdest shoes Keith had ever seen around, as if that would accentuate his point. "I mean, look at you! You went to school like this and took down three bullies. What's a little shop lady gonna do to you that they couldn't?"

Keith huffed, crossing his arms and looking away from both of them, brow set in a scowl. "That was different."

"How?" Lance walked back over to them.

"Because I was defending you."

With a hand pressed to his chest, Lance pretended to swoon. "My hero."

"Shut up."

"No, but seriously." Lance flopped into the chair next to him. "Mom's here to protect us from any unsavory sort. You don't cross a protective Cuban mama."

"It's true."

Before Keith could spit out a retort, Sadie came back with several boxes stacked in her arms. She could barely see around them. "Alright! Let's get started, shall we?"

They started with a smaller heel, "just to get you used to it." Lance critiqued each one with a thoughtful frown, making Keith stand and turn and walk back and forth. Some of them pinched his toes or rubbed his heel wrong, so they went to the discard pile. Others made him wobble or didn't make him feel dangerous enough. Sadie had brought out a pair of stilettos, and he was disappointed when Lance had to keep him steady. They were pretty and he really, _really_ liked them. But, he wanted a shoe that he could actually _walk_ in without breaking half his body.

Sometime during all that, Lance finally seemed to relax, getting into it and becoming boisterous as the discarded pile continued to grow. There were only a few in the 'maybe' pile, but that was okay. At least they were narrowing it down. And Sadie was being really nice about it, complementing him. And it made him feel really good about himself. Enough that he gave in to Lance's goading to swing his hips back and forth as he modeled down their impromptu catwalk.

Once the pile got down to just a few, Keith pulled out a piece of bright pink gum that he had been saving just for that moment. They were going back through the 'maybe' pile while Keith tried them on again. This time, he even tried sitting and crossing his legs at his knee, bouncing his top foot and popping his gum obnoxiously. He waited with a smirk for Lance to get what he was doing. It was _his_ stupid song, after all.

After the third shoe, Lance lit up. "I can't believe you! You hate that song!"

"Might as well embody it and go all out," Keith replied with a shrug, smirking as he popped another bubble.

Keith decided to get the heels that the straps wrapped up his legs in thin strings. They weren't the tallest, but they were the most sturdy, he had declared. And they made him as tall as Lance, which was a bonus. With how pale he was, the strings were a stark contrast and made him look good, Lance had told him.

And Sadie even let him continue to wear the shoes, cutting off the tags for him once they were rung up. Keith admired them, using Lance to learn how to balance on one leg so they could look at them some more as Rosalina paid. Then he stuck out his hip as he popped bubbles in Lance's face, just to annoy him.

What was weird was had Sadie flag down a manager. Sadie blushed the entire time Rosalina sung her praises and Keith was well past ready to leave, feeling the second-hand embarrassment making him flush hotly.

Keith's heels clicked loudly on the tile as they left, a confident swagger swaying his hips and head tilted high. He smirked as people stopped and stared at him, popping his gum obnoxiously all the while.

That's right, world. He was coming for it and was going to take it by storm.

* * *

Lance and Keith waited outside the bathrooms for Rosalina to come out, guarding their shopping. It wasn't long before a man much older than them spotted them and came over to them with a grin.

"Hello, ladies," he simpered, making Keith's skin crawl.

"Not ladies," Keith growled back.

That only made the man happier. "_Gentlemen_," he purred, crowding into their space and cutting them off from leaving. "You look like you want to have some fun."

Keith cut Lance off before he could answer. "We're underage."

"Playing hard to get, eh?" His breath stunk as he leaned too far into Keith's space, trapping him. Keith could feel Lance shaking beside him. "Come, now. How much do you want?"

"I _said_," Keith ground out between clenched teeth, "that we're under eighteen. Leave us alone." Too bad their bags were at their feet, blocking their escape. And that Keith hadn't had a chance to practice kicking ass in heels if he needed to. He was sure that the dude was going to get handsy here in a second.

"Come on, beautiful," the man simpered, leaning even closer. Any closer and their lips would be touching and Keith would have to bleach his entire body. "Come put that pretty mouth to good use. We all know you whores aren't good for much else."

What the _fuck_.

"_Mama_." Lance's voice brought his attention behind the man to Rosalina stalking up to them, purse gripped tight and glare angry enough to boil the man alive.

Before anyone else could react, Rosalina swung her purse with all her might, catching him on the side of the head. He crumpled with a shout, hand to his bloody face._ Heh_.

"What the fuck!" the man shouted, turning to face her, blood already running down his face. "The fuck is your problem, bitch! I'm gonna call the cops on you!"

"My problem," Rosalina growled, fetching her phone and dialing 911, "is that you just propositioned two minors for sex." She held an arm around Lance once he managed to sidestep the idiot's flailing limbs, pulling him close as he shook and trembled and held back hushed whimpers.

The man's eyes widened, glancing back between them. "I—I didn't know! They look old enough!"

"We told you we were underage," Keith growled, stepping closer. His heels clacked ominously against the tile. "Twice."

The man tried to scramble away, but Keith, praying that this move would work like it had on Sendak, pressed a heel to his groin, arms out slightly to balance himself on his new heels. "I wouldn't move, if I were you," Keith intoned, trying to look bored. He tried to keep his rage simmering beneath the surface, prepared to use it if need be but ultimately trying to keep his cool. He pressed the point of the heel pressed down in warning. The man whimpered. Keith popped his gum.

As Rosalina talked to the authorities, the man tried to get up and swat Keith away. Keith just pressed his heel down harder, making the man howl.

"I'm afraid he's going to get violent," he heard her say. "My son has him subdued at the moment."

Wait. Did she mean _him_?

"Did you miss the part where a man was soliciting _minors_ for _sex_?" Rosalina yelled into her phone. A crowd was starting to gather, whispering between themselves. A few had their phones out, pointed directly at them. She ignored them, rage clear. "That's a little bit more than a mall cop can handle, don't you think? Send two female officers, _now_. Not in half an hour, not when you feel like it—_now_. I expect them here within ten minutes. Do _not_ make me call back." She hung up, breathing deep.

Suddenly, a large man pushed through the crowd, looking worried. "Keith?" he said hesitantly, coming to a stop just inside the circle.

"Shiro?" What the hell? Shiro was still around? Altea was big enough that Keith hadn't thought they would ever run into each other again. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping," Shiro replied, looking stunned. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Shopping," Keith replied with an indifferent shrug. "Or, well, I was. This guy tried to get us to go suck him off in the bathroom even after we told him we were minors."

The man under Keith tried to use his inattention to break away. He kicked out with a leg, and Keith stumbled, falling hard to the floor. Someone in the crowd screamed. He saw Rosalina try to get to him, but Lance gripped her tighter, trying to pull her back out of the way. The man tried to stand, to scramble away, but Shiro was there, pinning him to the floor with his arm twisted behind his back. The man screamed, but Shiro didn't let go, only twisting harder. Blood smeared on the tile.

"It's good to see you, Keith," Shiro said easily, as if he wasn't pinning someone to the ground. _Show off_. "I missed you."

Keith was stunned, propped up on his elbows and looking at Shiro in awe. Someone actually _missed_ him? "You missed me?"

"Of course I did." And—but—why did Shiro sound so sad? "You just kind of disappeared and I didn't know what happened to you."

"Oh." And Keith was quiet, unsure. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Yeah, he had hoped that Shiro would have cared that he had disappeared, but he kind of expected that it wouldn't be the case. "Yeah. It's a long story."

"We'll have to catch up."

"Let me go!" the man was howling under Shiro. "I didn't know—I didn't _know_!"

Shiro twisted his arm harder. "Shut up."

After the two cops—both women, as requested—showed up and took statements and handcuffed the idiot, Rosalina took Shiro aside. Adam had shown up and pulled him and Lance away so Shiro and Rosalina could talk. Man, it had been a long time since he had seen them both. And Lance knew him from school.

Small world.

But they talked with Adam as Shiro talked with Rosalina. They looked to be having an intense discussion—probably about him. Maybe he would get to see Shiro, now. Rosalina didn't seem like the type to deny him something like this.

* * *

"Rosalina?" he quietly asked from the crack in her doorway. He didn't want to disturb them, but... he needed to ask them something.

They had the lamps on, each reading a book as they cuddled in bed. Rosalina lowered her book to her lap, looking up to see him peeking through the crack.

"What's wrong, Keith?"

He swung the door open slowly, and he shuffled into the room, pushing the door mostly closed like how he had found it. His feet whispered against the carpet as he drew near. Marcus set his own book on the bedside table, placing his reading glasses on top.

Keith stopped next to her end table. He kept his head bent, gaze concentrated on his escape route, fingers plucking at his shirt. "I—I wanted to, to thank you for the shoes. I really like them."

"You're welcome." She patted the bed beside her. "Sit. What's bothering you?"

"I—" He bit his lip, wringing his hands. Fuck. Was he really that transparent? He was already in there, so he might as well ask. He sat, though facing away. He was tense, ready to spring up and run away if the question upset them. "Did you mean it?"

"Despite having five children and several fosters coming through my home," she said slowly, "I'm not a great mind reader. You'll have to be more specific."

Keith flinched at that, bowing his head even further so his chin was tucked to his chest. He brought his feet up, resting his heels on the frame, almost hugging his knees close. "You called me your son. At the mall. And you defended me. Did you—Did you mean it?"

"Yes?" But she sounded unsure. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I've only been here, like, not even two months," he said to his knees, squeezing his eyes tight.

"So?" Marcus spoke up. The sheets rustled behind him. Maybe Marcus was moving around. "You don't have to be here a certain amount of time for us to love you, Keith."

A shuddered breath forced its way out and shook his body. A light hand on his shoulder. He startled, but didn't move away. Fuck. _Fuck fuck fuck_. He wanted that gentle touch so bad. He wanted their love even more. She pressed her hand more firmly. He trembled, unsure.

"You love me?"

"Of course we do," Marcus replied. Tears sprung in his eyes. "You're an amazing kid. Why wouldn't we love you?"

"No one else has," he managed to choke out evenly. "Not for... Not for a long, long time."

He got up at that and left before they could respond. He shot them a small, watery smile before he closed their door. He couldn't—He couldn't handle the emotions. Not in front of them. They _loved_ him. Sure, Shiro and Adam loved him, too, but...

It wasn't the same. It wasn't the same at all. They were like his brothers. Sure, if Keith had asked, they probably would have tried to adopt him years ago. But he hadn't, either because of all Shiro's medical care he needed or because of the wedding, he had found some excuse for why he just... couldn't ask. He had also sort of hoped that they would have offered, but they never had.

Keith grabbed his hippo and snuck into Lance's room. He was on his back, one arm above his head.

Perfect.

Keith slid in under the covers and curled up on Lance's chest, hippo clutched tight in his arms. Lance only hummed and brought his arm down to pull him closer. It didn't take him long to fall asleep.


	7. The Christmas Gift

Keith felt full and warm and happy as he sat at Shiro's feet on Christmas Eve. All his favorite people were gathered around. Barely two months in, and Keith really liked the family he was placed with. It was much better than any home he'd been in before. Most fosters were too awkward around the holidays when he was there. They tried to include him, but they hardly knew him and it showed in their lackluster gifts and cheer. Some outright excluded him, banning him to his room and demanding he stay there. The McClains, however...

They included him and laughed and teased him, as if he'd always been part of the family. Sylvio and Nadia called him their uncle. The adult siblings held up mistletoe above his head and pressed kisses to his warm cheeks. Rosalina smiled at him every time their eyes caught, and Marcus ruffled his hair as he walked past. It was a lazy day for warm pajamas and hot chocolate, he joked, for meditation in preparation for Rosalina's side of the family that would be crammed into every nook and cranny tomorrow. Even Shiro and Adam were in their most ridiculous Christmas pajamas.

Keith watched Marco and Rachel hand out the gifts, smiling but feeling melancholic. He sort of wished they had got him presents, too, but he didn't have much hope. Two months wasn't long enough to get to know him enough to know what he would like, anyway. He had gotten everyone else little things to show his appreciation for including him, but he wasn't expecting anything in return.

He frowned when Rachel handed him a sizeable stack. More than... more than anyone had ever given him. Did _everyone_ give him presents?

"Uhm...?" was all he could think to say.

"You didn't think we'd forget about you, did you?" Rosalina asked quietly, hoping not to draw the others' attention.

"I've... Shiro's been the only one to really get me presents before," Keith replied, just as quietly. "I mean, my first Christmas in foster care I got little toys and whatever, but..."

Shiro nudged him with his knee. "Well, this year is different."

Keith waited a moment, watching as the others dug into their presents. Wrapping paper flew across the room and chatter and laughter grew the more they delved into the mayhem.

He watched as Rosalina picked up a familiar little box.

He had tried his hardest, but he hadn't ever had much practice with wrapping presents. It was wrapped a little clumsily, but it was the best out of the bunch. Everyone had little gifts, stuff he could buy with the money he had made that Marcus had given him for helping out around the shop, and he had practiced on the McClain siblings' gifts before he had tried to wrap Rosalina and Marcus'. The gold ribbon was a little lopsided, but knotted in a neat, tight little bow that pressed a lined piece of paper to the box.

He watched as she carefully unwrapped it, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Shit. Had he messed up? Why was she crying?

She looked up and locked eyes with him.

Licking her lips, she turned back to the paper and got Marcus' attention. It was supposed to be for both of them, after all. He knew the letter by heart; he'd wrote it at least twenty-seven times, trying to get the letters perfect and legible. Something typed would have been too impersonal for the sentiment he felt.

_Dear Rosalina and Marcus,_

_I wanted to thank you for opening your home to me and making me feel welcome and safe. I really like living with you. You're the best foster parents I've ever had. I hope you like the gift._

_Merry Christmas_

_Keith_

Thirteen of the drafts had been discarded because the heart next to Christmas had been insufficient. After the thirteenth, he had taken a piece of paper and drawn tiny hearts all over until they weren't wobbly or too terribly lopsided.

Rosalina let out a watery chuckle and carefully put the note aside. What kind of reaction was _that_?

Inside the box was a little purple-tinted glass hippo. It was small, about the same size as the others on the shelf in her room. He hoped it was the same as the others on her shelf, or at least similar enough to them. All of her kids and Lisa and Sylvio and Nadia each had their own little glass animal to represent them that she would kiss and say a little prayer for if they were having trouble.

Keith wanted that connection to this family. He wanted his own little animal up on that shelf. He wanted Rosalina to pray for him despite him not believing in God. He wanted her to kiss the little glass hippo and wish him the best, even if he never knew when she did it. He wanted to believe that the good things that happened to him were because she asked the universe to be kind to him, for just a moment.

Keith hoped that she understood that this was his way of asking if she would adopt him without him outright asking. He didn't think he could take the heartbreak if she denied him to his face.

"Thank you, Keith." She smiled brightly at him. He flushed and turned away.

"Alright!" Rosalina called once everyone was done unwrapping their gifts. The rustling of wrapping paper and tissue paper paused as they all looked over at her. "I need all my children and my husband and Keith in my room, please, for a family meeting. We'll be right back!"

She herded them into her room. They exchanged confused glances, but no one seemed to have an answer. Keith watched as she carefully placed the hippo at the end of the line of little glass figurines, next to the shark. With a frown, she switched the shark and the hippo and nodded, seemingly satisfied.

Everyone piled onto the bed except for Keith as Rosalina and Marcus stood as a solid unit a few feet from the foot of the bed. He stood off to the side, hands clasped tight in front of him. Was he supposed to get on there, too? What was going on?

She motioned for him to sit on the bed as well. "You too, Keith. On the bed."

Nervously, he sat between Lance and Marco at the foot of the bed. Alrighty, then.

"So." Rosalina clapped her hands once. She tried to appear somber, but Keith could see her trying to hide a smile. "I—"

"You're not pregnant, are you?" Lance interrupted, sounding dismayed.

"What? No." She scowled at him. "Hush." She then grinned. Marcus put a hand at the small of her back. "I have one more gift for Keith. But I don't have it yet. I won't be able to get it for at least four or five more months." And here, she looked expectantly at Keith, as if he knew what she was talking about

He frowned back at her, slightly shaking his head. "What..." Four or five months from now? What was in four or five months? Wait. That would be the end of the six month waiting period. Was she—Did she mean—? He straightened, eyes starting to water. "You... Are you serious?"

"What? What's going on?" asked Lance.

"If you want," Rosalina replied, ignoring Lance.

"But I'm almost eighteen..." Wouldn't that be useless, if he would be five or six months away from aging out?

"So?" Marcus replied. He was grinning just as wide as Rosalina. "That doesn't mean anything. These other miscreants are still our kids even though they're over eighteen. Doesn't make them our kids any less, now does it?"

Tears were streaming down Keith's face, but he couldn't be bothered by them. Rosalina was crying, too. He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that— "You want me?"

"Of course I do," she said at the same time as Marcus said, "She told me the second night you were here she wanted to keep you."

It was quiet, for a moment, as Keith tried to process what this meant. They wanted to officially, legally, _really_ make him part of their family. They wanted to waste money to make him _theirs_. How long had he been wishing, hoping, for someone to want him like that after his dad died?

Apparently he took too long to reply, because Rosalina barreled on, "I'm going to do everything in my power to make you part of this family, Keith. I know—I know it's only been two months, but I want to give you a home. I want to give you a home with _me_—with _us_."

And then Keith just launched himself at her, arms wrapping around her as tight as he could. The only reasons they didn't fall was because of Marcus steadying her. Keith was sobbing unashamedly into her shoulder, thanking her over and over through his gasps. She was crying just as hard as she pulled him even closer to her, cradling him close.

Arms surrounded them. Several arms and several sniffles and he was pretty sure Lance was sobbing just as hard as he was. A large hand ruffled Keith's hair.

"Welcome to the family, _hermanito_."

_Little brother_, Lance had told him a few weeks ago when Keith had asked for Spanish lessons.

He didn't mind it at all.

* * *

The Martinez clan was... something else. Keith wasn't sure exactly what word he wanted to use. But they were _a lot_ of whatever it was. There were cousins pouring from the corners and aunts and uncles and grandkids and every time Keith turned around there was someone new he'd never seen before.

Luckily, Marco had taken it upon himself to introduce him and Shiro to everybody. Abuelita—Rosalina's mom—had stolen Adam away as soon as she saw him. Shiro had heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, but he had smiled and waved his husband off. Marco had laughed and said the two were going to cause trouble.

Adam was a little shit. Keith could testify.

He wouldn't be surprised if something broke before the end of the night.

Instead, he turned his attention to meeting everyone. Even if it was a lot of people, it was fun. Everyone genuinely wanted to know him and complimented him on his glittery hair. No one made any homophobic comments, either, or made any comments about him dressing kind of feminine that night, which was... sort of a surprise, really. But it didn't matter.

He couldn't wait to officially become part of the family.


	8. If I Leave First

He should have known that the peace wouldn't last.

It never did. Especially around the holidays. In all the years he had been in foster care, not a single one had passed without him needing to be moved. Well, he supposed there was that _one_ year that he last almost an entire year.

But.

Well.

It was around three thirty in the morning. There was noise out in the hallway that woke him up. He crept to his door, knife in hand—just in case there was an intruder. Peering through the crack in the door, he saw Rosalina and Marcus come out of the spare rooms, quietly shutting the doors behind them. So... not an intruder? Then what was going on?

Heart pounding in his chest, Keith set the knife aside and snuck into the hallway behind them to see what was going on. There was a new voice—deep, somber.

"Thanks, Chase," he heard Rosalina say as he got to the edge of the hallway. "I hope you're able to find something—"

Wait, what? Were they sending him away? In the middle of the night? Right after she had promised to adopt him? Had he done something _wrong_? He'd seen Chase around, back before Laura became his caseworker. Where was Laura? Was she no longer his caseworker anymore?

He must have made a sound, because Rosalina turned and looked at him.

"Rosalina?" he asked in a low voice, trying to hide his fear. Shiro was always telling him that he needed to get more information before jumping to conclusions. Maybe—maybe Chase was just dropping someone off. He'd seen that happen before—had _been_ that someone before. Rosalina—the McClains wouldn't just—wouldn't just get rid of him, _right_?

"Hey, baby." Rosalina drew him closer and gave him a hug. It comforted him only slightly; his heart still beat in his throat. "What are you doing up?"

"Bathroom," he lied, warily eyeing Chase. "What's going on? Is he here for me?"

"No, baby." Rosalina turned him back to look at her, cupping his cheek gently. "He was dropping off two kids. You're staying here, don't worry."

Keith kept a wary eye on Chase, but nodded. Two kids? Did that mean he would have to leave, soon? Sure, Rosalina and Marcus had a lot of kids, but—

Rosalina kissed his temple. "Go back to bed, _mijo_."

She still called him son. That was a good thing, _right_?

Reluctantly, Keith went back to bed.

He couldn't fall back asleep.

* * *

Keith waited until he heard the kitchen bustling before he joined them. He wanted to see the new kids, but he also didn't. He didn't want to know who was replacing him, but... He also wanted to make sure that they would be good replacements, too. He eyed Rosalina a little warily as he stole the cereal from Lance.

Bickering ensued. That was normal. Lance didn't seem to act like Keith would be leaving soon. But maybe he didn't know.

"You're in charge," Rosalina demanded, shoving the baby spoon into Lance's hand as he sat. "I need a shower."

Keith watched her as she left, trying to decide if she was sad about replacing him or not. The kids were adorable—young, what people looked for to adopt. He'd always been too old, too surly. But these kids were bright and bubbly and happy and _young_. He was less than a year from legally becoming an adult.

But...

She wasn't... acting any different, but maybe that meant she wasn't really thrilled about him being there in the first place and the promise of adoption had been empty.

Maybe... Maybe he would do them all a favor and just leave before they could string him along before kicking him out. His stomach was rolling and he felt too nauseous to eat the cereal.

After they had rinsed their bowls and put them in the sink, Lance herded the two kids into the living room to color and watch TV. Keith, however, went back to his room and packed as quickly as he could. He had to be quick, before Rosalina tried to stop him so he could go to another awful home. He would rather be homeless in the dead of winter than be shipped off again. Or maybe Shiro and Adam would let him stay for a little bit. Surely they liked him enough to let him stay until winter ended?

The books and papers clattered to the floor as he upended his bag. He'd finally thrown the other one away yesterday, stupidly thinking he was staying. He should have kept it.

_Stupid stupid stupid_

Whatever. It didn't matter. Just meant he needed to be smart. He took the most important things—the hoodies, the flannels, socks, underwear. Stuck his mother's knife on top, easy to reach.

He left the hippo.

He didn't even say goodbye, or leave a note. Lance hadn't even looked up from the coloring books, either, as Keith had slipped on his heavy coat and boots.

The door shut with a quiet click. It was _cold_ out there, and he could see his breath. Snow drifted down in twirling swirls and the air was crisp and sharp in his lungs. It was quiet, out there. He wanted to go back inside, wanted to start running, wanted—

Instead, he walked to the edge of the porch. His feet faltered on the second step.

He wanted—

He couldn't step off the porch.

With a sigh, watching as his breath misted and swirled around him, Keith sat. Maybe he could just... wait and see if someone came after him. He'd give it a few minutes before he started walking.

He hung his head low, resting his elbows on his knees so his hands dangled in front of him, breathing slow to calm his racing heart.

Just a few minutes—Just a few.

The door hit the wall as someone threw open the door. He flinched and hunched down, trying to hide a smile. But it fell when he saw Rosalina sit from the corner of his eye.

"I don't wanna leave," Keith mumbled, voice thick. He sort of wanted to cry. She had come looking for him. That was a good thing, right?

"No one said you were leaving." He didn't respond to that. What could he even say to that? "Why do you think you'll be leaving?"

"'Cause I never get to stay more than a few months," he replied, trying not to sound like he cared too much. "And you have other kids and—"

"_Mijo, mijo_," she cooed, pulling him close as his breath hitched. He tried to pull as much comfort from her as he could. "I will always have space for you here. Just because other foster kids come in doesn't mean you have to leave. The ones I usually take in are only here for a few days while they sort things out. Like with Roxie and Mikey. Their parents died and they're trying to find a relative. I told you on Christmas that we're going to adopt you, remember?"

"Yeah, but—" Keith cut himself off with a hard sigh. His breath puffed white fog in front of his face. Pressing further into her arms, he continued, "What if you can't adopt me, though?"

Rosalina hummed and kissed the top of his head. "It's no guarantee, Laura told me, but she seems pretty hopeful. She's doing what she can to help me keep you here. And even if I can't, you're always welcome here. Even if you age out, you can always come back here. Maybe we won't be able to make it official, but that doesn't mean we can't still be a family, hmm?"

"I guess..." Keith sniffed and wiped at his face. "I just... I've just been waiting so _long_ to be part of a family again, yanno? And no one's ever—no one's ever wanted me before."

"I know, honey. I know."

She squeezed him close, and he soaked it all up, drinking it thirstily. But then she slipped her hands under his coat to jab her fingers into his sides. He jolted, shocked. A surprised laugh escaped him, and then he was giggling and trying to wiggle away as she dug her fingers into his sides. But she was relentless, tickling him until he was out of breath and nearly shrieking, cheeks flushed both from the bitter cold and from laughing entirely too hard. She only stopped when he cried, "Uncle, _uncle_!"

Rosalina pulled him close again, laughing with him as he tried to regain his breath.

What a _jerk_.

But she had made her point, he supposed. And when she urged him back inside, claiming a frozen butt, he laughed and followed without argument.


	9. Three Friends and a Mom

Lance's friend Hunk was... kind of cute. Keith was in tune enough with his sexuality that he would admit it.

Privately. To himself. In his head.

Anyway. Hunk was kind of cute and Keith was horribly smitten with the boy. They had eaten lunch together since Keith had kicked Sendak's ass a few months ago, and Hunk was cute, and funny, and a stupid cinnamon roll.

Not to mean the other boy was _stupid_. He was _super_ smart and talked a lot about things Keith didn't understand, but he liked to listen to anyway.

And all last semester, Keith hadn't joined them at the kitchen table. He always went to his room to work as quickly as possible before Rosalina took it away. But today... Today he was trying to branch out, like Shiro was always asking him to. And he could feel that his cheeks were warm as he sat down across the table from the other two, glancing at the much bigger boy when he thought he could get away with it.

And then Rosalina invited Hunk to stay for dinner and to spend the night. Keith was _not_ prepared for that! _Especially_ when Lance and Hunk whooped and hollered and dashed to the living room, pulling a stunned Keith with them to set up another blanket fort.

Before they could get started, Keith asked in a small voice, "You want me to join you?" He hadn't ever joined them before. He always hid in his room, and they hadn't usually tried too hard to invite him to join.

"_Duh_," Lance replied with a roll of his eyes. "Now come on. This blanket fort isn't going to build itself!"

It was hours later that Hunk and Lance had fallen asleep in the middle of a game. Keith was just as tired, but fighting hard to stay awake. Was he allowed to sleep in the fort with them? Should he go back to his room?

But Hunk and Lance looked so... calm. Peaceful. Hunk was sprawled on his back, arms flung with abandon. Lance was curled half on top of him, stretching out in what had to be the most uncomfortable position in the universe and arm stretched out above him. He was drooling all over Hunk's chest.

There was just enough room for Keith to curl against Hunk's side with Lance's outstretched arm draped over him.

Surely, it wouldn't hurt to cuddle up next to Hunk?

To be safe, he laid on his side with his back to the two and used Hunk's arm as a pillow. It was warm enough in their little fort that they didn't need blankets.

It wasn't long before Keith drifted off to sleep himself.

* * *

Keith glared down at the worksheet in front of him. No matter what he did, the numbers weren't coming up right. He'd been staring at the stupid piece of paper for, like, three hours by then and surely it was supposed to be lunch, soon, and he could take a break.

What the fuck. It wasn't even nine?!

Keith glared back at the paper. Romelle had already come by to check on him and helped guide him through the first problem, but—

None of it made _sense_.

And this kid wouldn't. Stop. Tapping. Their. Fucking. Pencil.

With a yell, Keith flung the packet away from him and shoved away from the desk. The chair toppled over, the legs catching on his, making his blood boil even more. With another yell, he reached for the chair, lifting it above his head from the cool metal legs to bring it down on his desk.

"Keith!" Coran hurried over to him and plucked the chair from his hands. The students around him had scrambled away with shrieks. "We don't resort to violence, remember? What do we do when you're overwhelmed?"

Keith tried to pick out the condescending tone from Coran's voice, but... it wasn't there. He was calm, soothing, making exaggerated breaths, in through his nose and out his mouth, with stupid arm movements to match.

Oh.

Right.

He was supposed to take deep breaths.

"That's my boy," Coran said proudly with a grin. "What else are we supposed to do?"

His blood still burned hotly through him, roaring in his ears and muddling his thoughts. He clenched and unclenched his hands, looking around the room. Romelle was comforting Jackie and Micha, leading them through their own breathing exercises. Pidge was staring at him with a confused frown. The door was shut. The beanbags at the back corner were unoccupied.

Oh yeah.

Keith jerked, wanting to move over there without speaking. But Coran had asked him a question and it was rude not to answer. "B-Beanbags?" He cringed at the uncertainty in his tone.

"That's right!" Coran held out his hands, palms up. "Do you want me to touch you or keep my distance?"

"Uhm." Keith still felt too wired. If Coran touched him, he would probably swing. He took a small step back, shaking his head.

"Right. No touching." He swept a hand back towards the corner. "Let's go to the Cool Corner, shall we?"

It was a stupid name for it, Keith had always thought. Was it trying to be punny? On multiple levels? Keith followed him to the blue and green and purple corner, curling into a purple beanbag and trying to hide his head.

"Keep breathing, Keith," Coran reminded him. He flopped into another beanbag and tapped the piece of paper taped there. "Where are we at, Keith? You don't have to speak if you don't want to. You can point to which one or hold up the number."

Keith looked at the paper. It was divided into two parts: the top had weird looking hand drawn emojis that ranged from crying to neutral to happy to angry, with the corresponding feeling typed under it in Comic Sans. Underneath was different, with a stick figure with "me" under it, then an orange stick figure with a giant mustache and a pink stick figure with yellow hair labeled "Coran" and "Romelle". A group of black stick figures was labeled "others" and another labeled "family." Then there were books and food and other items. Back on his first day, Coran had explained that several of his students went nonverbal when they were upset and this was an easy way to communicate and figure out the problem.

Keith pointed to the red angry face. Then the blue angry face with steam coming from its nose. Angry. Frustrated.

"Good, good," Coran muttered, petting his ridiculous mustache. "Thank you for telling me. Now, can you tell me _why_ you are upset?"

Keith jabbed at the me stick figure. Then the books. Me. Schoolwork. His blood started to boil again, and he wanted to throw something—stab something.

"Keep breathing, Keith," Coran reminded him. "It's okay to be frustrated with your schoolwork. You're doing an amazing job with the accelerated program."

Keith shook his head, growling and jabbing his finger at the schoolwork again. Then the me stick figure.

"Are you having trouble with the material?"

Keith nodded, scowling at his lap. He clenched his hands—

"Hey, hey, none of that now," Coran chided gently. "We can work on it together once you've calmed down, alright? And you're frustrated with yourself?" Keith nodded. "You shouldn't be frustrated with yourself. You're doing an amazing job!"

"But I'm—" His breath caught in his throat. "'m too stupid."

"You are _not_ stupid, Keith" Coran said fiercely. "You've just hit a roadblock. Finding something difficult doesn't make you stupid."

"But. Romelle already explained the math to me," Keith argued. "But I just don't _get_ it."

Coran smiled gently at him. "And that's okay. Once you cool down, we'll take a look together and see where you're getting stumped."

Pidge suddenly popped up from behind Coran. "You can borrow my headphones," she said, ignoring Coran's screech of alarm. "I've got all sorts of music, and it helps me calm down. And I can help you with your math. I've already taken it."

Keith gave her a dubious look. She looked like she was only fourteen.

She rolled her eyes and shoved the headphones at him. "I'm taking college level math and science classes. That's why I'm here. So I can probably help."

"Good thinking, Pidge!" Coran exclaimed. He was always on about helping each other. "And thank you for offering your headphones to Keith. Well come to you when we're ready, okay?"

She shrugged, unconcerned, and walked back to her desk.

Coran turned back to him. "Where are we at now?"

Keith pointed to the yellow angry face. Mad. Yellow sad face. Disappointed. Me stick figure.

"What can I do to help?"

Keith looked at his options. It wasn't on there. But, then again, his was very specific. "A hug?" When Coran opened his arms, Keith flinched back. "Can I get one from Lance?"

Coran strokes his mustache thoughtfully. "_Well_... I can't call him down here. _But_!" He brandished a triumphant finger. "We can take a stroll around the school, and if we so happen to stumble upon him..."

Keith gave him a small smile in return. That would work with him.

And at lunch, he only startled slightly when Pidge slid in beside him and introduced herself to Lance and Hunk.

* * *

Keith made it a Thing to sit at the kitchen table after that first day with Hunk. Besides, Keith told Rosalina who had raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Hunk was good at explaining the math to him. So was Pidge, as soon as he asked if she could come over after school, too.

"She's so smart," Keith gushed one day after Pidge had left to go home for dinner, legs crossed under him as he leaned over the table to work on his history homework. He couldn't help it—he was actually making _friends_. He had two whole ass friends—three, if he could count Lance. Three! Friends! Him! "She's, like, fourteen but she's a junior and she's taking college credit math and science classes. _And_," he added empathetically; Rosalina turned as he brandished his pencil in the air, "she's making a _robot_. By her_self_."

"Sounds like you admire her," Rosalina chuckled, stirring the pot on the stove.

The spices wafted through the air. _Fuck_ yeah. _Chili_. There were jalapeños off to the side because she knew Keith didn't like them very much. And wasn't that _cool_, that a family actually _cared_ what he wanted to eat and took that into consideration when they made food and didn't force him to eat it if he didn't like it?

"Well, duh," he replied.

"Do you have a crush on her?"

"What? Ew, _gross_," Keith said a bit too much emotion. Rosalina rolled her eyes. "She's a _girl_. She has _cooties_."

Rosalina rolled her eyes again. Keith wanted to quip that they would get stuck like that, but she said, "Girls don't have cooties, Keith."

"They do _too_," he argued back. "Why do you think I'm gay? It's to avoid the cooties."

Rosalina laughed. "Sure, Keith." She tapped the spoon against the pot and set it down in the little fish spoon tray Veronica had gotten her for Christmas. "What about any boys? Do you have a crush on a boy?"

Keith spluttered. She couldn't know about Hunk. No way. "What? _No_. Why would I?"

"Just asking," Rosalina replied in a mocking sing-song tone. She ruffled his hair against his protests. He glared up at her as he tried to fix it and push it out of his eyes. "Dinner will be ready in about forty minutes, so you better get what you want done quick."

He turned back to his homework, determined to finish the worksheet. He was so fucking close to finishing the sophomore coursework. He had fallen behind for a week because of that stupid meltdown he had the other week, but with Hunk and Lance and now Pidge helping where they could he was back on track to finish by the end of February.

Hopefully. Maybe.

"You're doing a good job, Keith." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

He beamed at her, and he couldn't help the warm fuzzy feeling threatening to suffocate him.

* * *

"_Oooh!_" Lance crowed, following Keith around the house as he tried to escape. "Keith has a _crush_~!"

"Shut up, Lance!"

"Tell me who it is!"

Keith tried to push Lance away as he leered at him like the weirdo he was.

"Mom!" Lance yelled. "Keith has a _crush_ on a _boy_!"

"No I don't!" Keith hollered back.

"Then why did you ask me for stuff to make a Valentine's card?"

"Shut _up_, Lance!"

"Mom!" Lance whined. "Keith told me to shut up!"

"Because you're annoying me!"

Keith darted from the living room back to the hallway, Lance hot on his heels with an evil grin. They struggled, then the two tumbled into the kitchen. They tussled, minding the table where she was working, both knowing that if they messed her up they would be chewed out so bad that their great-great grandchildren would be deaf from the slaughter. They were both obviously trying to gain the upper hand through underhanded tactics. Keith jabbed at Lance's soft underbelly and Lance threaded his fingers through Keith's hair to shove his head down.

"Boys," Rosalina intoned, calmly pressing down with her wood burner. Wisps of smoke curled through the air, bringing with it the light scent of burning cedar. They immediately stopped. That tone was dangerous, and they knew if they didn't stop they would seriously be in trouble. She briefly looked up with a dispassionate eye. "Keith, relax your fists. Lance, let go of his hair."

The two boys hastily shoved each other away.

"So Keith," Rosalina said, hiding a smirk. "I hear you have a crush on a boy."

"Shut _up_, mom! I do not!"

Silence fell over the kitchen and cold fear flooded through him. Rosalina set down her wood burner to look up at him. His mouth hung open. He couldn't _believe_ he had actually said that out loud!

"I—I didn't mean—"

He fled from the room and slammed his door hard enough that he winced, knowing he would be chewed out for that.

_Stupid stupid stupid_

He couldn't _believe_ he had just called her mom like that! What was he _thinking_? He dove under the covers, huddled close and hugging the hippo to his chest. He really, _really_ hoped she wasn't going to be mad.

She knocked softly on Keith's door. He couldn't answer. She opened it anyway. Softly, Rosalina closed the door and then the edge dipped next to him.

"Keith."

"Go away."

"Are you embarrassed because you called me mom?"

His breath hitched, but he didn't answer. But then she placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb in a soothing sweep. He was tense, breathing a little too quickly as he tried to believe she wasn't going to punish him.

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be?"

"I dunno."

"You can call me whatever you want, _mijo_," she replied just as softly. "If you want to call me mom, I'm perfectly fine with that. If you don't, that's okay, too."

The blankets fell away as Keith sat up. He clutched the purple hippo to his stomach. He tried to ignore his heart beating in his throat, nearly choking him. "I kinda wanna call you mom. Can I call Marcus dad?"

"He'd absolutely love it." Rosalina drew him close for a hug. He melted into her arms, nuzzling as close as he could. She dropped a kiss to his hair. "Now let's say you go ambush Lance for teasing you."

Keith grinned and hopped off the bed, hippo abandoned. "Excellent idea."

She followed him out, laughing as he hurried to find Lance.

"No, no! Keith, not the glitter!"

* * *

"Uhm. Mom?" Keith asked from the hallway.

Rosalina—Mom—looked up from her cocoon of blankets, cup of coffee in hand. He tried to ignore his heart fluttering at her smile. He absolutely _loved_ saying it. "Yes, honey?"

"Could you, uhm." Keith bit his lip and looked away. "Can you help me make some cookies?"

"Of course!" She struggled out of the cocoon, glaring at Keith's snickers. "What kind do you want to make?"

He followed her into the kitchen. "I dunno. Uhm." He could feel his cheeks warming. "They're for a boy at school..."

"Oh?" she asked, pulling out a mixing bowl. Keith suspected she was purposefully acting nonchalant about it. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Keith hesitantly nodded. He licked his lips, hoping she wouldn't be mad. "Yeah, uh... It's uhm. Hunk."

"Good choice," she said with a large smile.

Keith grinned, and they got to work.

* * *

Lance, the little bitch, was running ahead of him, cackling as his stupid long legs got him home quicker. Keith was just too slow to catch Lance as he slammed the door.

He banged open the front door, dashing through and ignoring his wet shoes. Mom would _kill_ him, but this was more important. "_Lance_!"

Lance squeaked and threw off his backpack to dash towards the kitchen.

"Stop slamming the door!" Mom yelled at both of them. Both came barreling into the kitchen. Lance looked stupidly mischievous, grin wide and knowing, and Keith was two seconds from murdering him. "What is the problem?"

"Keith—"

"I have a knife and I know where you sleep."

"_Keith_."

"Mom, he's threatening me!"

"I'm _right here_, Lance."

"Mom, he's being a _little bitch_!"

"_Keith!_"

"It's _true_."

"Tell her or I will!"

"She already knows!"

"_What_?!" Lance spun to send her a betrayed look. "The _betrayal_ in this house! This cannot stand!"

Mom rolled her eyes at the theatrics and started cleaning up. "So?" she prompted, quirking an eyebrow at Keith. "What did Hunk say?"

Keith smiled shyly and ducked his head. Hopefully she wasn't going to tease him. "He said yeah, and he's going to take me on a date this weekend."

"Aww," Lance cooed, reaching over to pinch Keith's cheeks. Keith was much too quick for him and swatted his hand away with a scowl. "My little Keithy-boy, all grown up."

"Shut up, Lance."


	10. The Date

"Hey, Lance?"

Lance and mom were cuddling on the couch. Keith stood just inside the hallway, rubbing his thumb back and forth over his finger as he tried to calm his nerves. He was still in his pajamas and he only had a couple of hours before Hunk was supposed to pick him up.

"Hmm?" Lance replied sleepily.

"Can you..." he started, pausing to bite his lip. "I was wondering if you could help me get ready. For my date. With Hunk."

"Heck yeah!" Lance jumped up, fully awake now. "Okay, what kind of look are you going for, dude?" he asked as he pushed Keith towards his room.

"I dunno?" They stared into his nearly empty closet. There wasn't much in there, really. Just his hoodies and flannel shirts and the obnoxious sweater Rachel had given him for Christmas.

Lance hummed, poking at his cat hoodie. "I think you should wear your heels," he said thoughtfully. "Hunk told me he thinks you look cute in them. Maybe with black pants? But not shorts because it's cold and you'll give Hunk a stroke or something."

"I guess..." Keith bit his lip again, wanting to ask... "He's... He's alright with me being... kinda femme?"

"Pssshhh." Lance waved him off as he picked out Keith's black pants and pulled out one of his light grey t-shirts. "More than okay. He likes that you're not afraid to be yourself." He glared once more at Keith's closet. "Okay. I'll let you borrow one of my sweaters that should look nice with this. Come on."

Keith followed him back to his room and Keith made sure the door shut fully so mom couldn't walk in on them.

"Uhm." Keith fiddled with the shirt after Lance deposited the clothes in his arms and ordered him to change. "I'm. Uhm. Wearing that underwear you gave me? Do you think that's okay?"

"Dude, of course. Whatever makes you feel comfortable." But he paused at Keith's flinch. "What's wrong?"

Keith shrugged, not wanting to look at him. "Please don't... call me dude? I'm—I'm not—"

"Are you trans?" Lance asked tentatively.

"Trans?" Keith looked up, confused. "I don't know what that means."

Lance looked at him for a long moment, long enough to make Keith start to fidget in discomfort. He finally laid down the light green sweater on the bed without breaking eye contact. "So," Lance started slowly. "Trans is short for transgender. It means you don't identify with the sex you were assigned at birth. So, like, a trans woman is a woman who the doctors and everybody assigned as male at birth, but she decided she's not a boy, and a trans man would be the opposite, and non-binary means that you're not a girl or a boy, so... If that makes sense?"

Keith frowned and shook his head. "No? I mean. That doesn't make sense. Why would you be something you're not born as? And how can you not be a boy or a girl?"

Lance shrugged back. "I dunno. How are people gay or lesbian or bi or ace? I know there's, like, millions of people who are trans, though. It's something like ten percent of the population, I think."

"Oh. How come I haven't heard about it before?" How come _Shiro_ hadn't ever told him about it?

He shrugged again and pulled out his makeup kit. "No idea. Most people in the queer community know about it, though I guess a lot of them are pretty transphobic. They don't like trans people."

"Why?"

"I dunno. I'm not them. But..." Lance looked down at his lap, eyes sad. "A lot of people think that because I'm bi, that means I'm transphobic when I'm not. I don't care what's in your pants, and I don't care if you're non-binary or anything. But I don't like the term pansexual, at least not for _me_. I think it sounds pretentious and rude and—I dunno." But then he perked up again, though Keith could see the smile wasn't nearly as genuine. "Go ahead and change! We're on a time crunch, you know!"

Keith mulled over his words as he changed into his clothes. He had already shaved his legs, since he didn't really like the prickly feeling of the hair growing back. Plus, he really liked his legs being smooth. And the sweater looked nice, too, and was soft as he put it on over his t-shirt.

"I'm not a girl, though," Keith said quietly as he sat next to Lance.

Shaking the red nail polish, Lance patted his lap for Keith's feet. "I mean. You do dress like a girl, though, and you do a lot of girl stuff like painting your nails and doing your makeup and shaving and stuff."

"You do that, too," Keith grumbled back.

"Yeah, but, I know I'm a boy," he replied as he started painting Keith's nails. "And you've told me before that you like dressing up and that it makes you feel good and confident about yourself. Or maybe you just like cross dressing, or being femme or something. I'm not you. I can't decide that for you."

"But I like boy things, too." But Keith could feel the tremor, the uncertainty, in his tone.

"So does Veronica, but she's still a raging lesbian. Hands, please." Lance carefully started on his hands, careful not to get any on his skin. "Maybe you're just gender non-conforming but still a dude." Lance raised a pointed eyebrow at his flinch. "It's just... Most guys don't flinch at being called 'dude'."

"I don't wanna talk about it anymore," Keith grumbled. "I'm already nervous about this date. I don't need to worry about my fucking gender crisis."

With a calming smile, Lance patted his hand. "Got it. But if you do wanna talk about it, I'll lend an ear, okay?"

Keith couldn't help smiling back. "Thanks."

The rest of getting ready went much happier. Lance joked with him as he did his hair and makeup while they waited for the polish to dry. He didn't bring up the gender thing again, but he did tease Keith about good kissing tips that made his ears feel hot. But he did Keith's hair and makeup just how he liked it, even adding one of Nadia's hairclips that she had left a few weeks ago that matched his sweater.

Lance wouldn't let him wear his fingerless gloves, the _jerk_.

"Okay, okay!" Lance whispered giddily, pulling him from his room and to the hallway, just out of sight from the living room. "I have to announce you!" Then he stepped out and called out, "I give you!" He made a drumroll on his legs before stepping aside and throwing his hands out to present Keith. "One beautiful creature, if I do say so myself."

Mom smiled at him, looking a little teary-eyed. "You look lovely, Keith."

"Thanks, mom," he replied bashfully. "Do you think Hunk...?"

"I told him that Hunk will think he's pretty flippin' cute," Lance huffed with a roll of his eyes.

"Do you have your phone?" Rosalina asked, ignoring Lance for the moment. Just after Christmas, dad had taken Keith after a day at the shop to get him a phone so he could keep in touch with Shiro and Adam without having to go through mom, and so he could have a bit more independence in general. "And your wallet, just in case?"

Keith patted his front right pocket, then his back right. "Yup. I—"

A knock on the front door interrupted him. It was quiet for a long stretch as Keith stared, wide-eyed and pale, at Lance, then mom. No one moved; Keith couldn't answer the door! There was still fifteen minutes before Hunk was supposed to be there! _He wasn't ready!_

The knock came again.

"Well?" Rosalina raised an eyebrow at Keith.

"He's early!"

"And?"

"I think I'm going to throw up."

He hurried to the bathroom, trying his best not to break his ankles or throw up on the carpet.

"Hey, buddy!" he heard Lance call out. "Keith is just finishing getting ready. I'll go get him."

Lance was officially on his shit list, and he moved to the very top when he came around the corner and grinned at him. "Come on, Keithy. Don't back out now! I worked too hard to make you beautiful for you to wimp out on us."

"I'm not ready!" Keith hissed back. "What if I screw up? What if I do something bad and Hunk doesn't even want to be my friend anymore?"

Lance took his hands and squeezed them, smiling gently at him. "It'll be okay, Keith. Hunk's a good guy. You have to do something spectacularly bad to make him hate you so much he doesn't wanna be your friend anymore. There's no way anything bad will happen today. You two are going to go on your date, have fun, and then you're gonna come home and give me all the juicy details."

Keith pulled him into a quick hug. "Thanks, Lance."

Lance pulled Keith back into the living room. Keith still felt a little like he was going to be sick, but he couldn't. Hunk, on the other hand, almost dropped his flowers. His jaw certainly dropped as he looked awestruck.

"Keith... You—You look..." He struggled to come up with the word he wanted. Breathlessly, he finally decided on, "_beautiful_."

Keith felt his cheeks heat up. "Shut up." He looked down at the colorful flowers dangling precariously in Hunk's hand. "Are... those for _me_?" A boy got him _flowers_?

"What?" Hunk shook himself out of his stupor. "Oh, these?" He held them up with a sheepish smile. "Yeah. They're for you. Do you... Do you like them?"

Keith nodded quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. Thanks." And he couldn't help smiling as he took the flowers and gave them a sniff. They were daisies, or carnations or something, he wasn't quite sure. But the gesture was sweet all the same. Hunk was just so _cute_. Standing next to Hunk, with his heels, he was almost as tall as the bigger boy. Which was good—Hunk always made him feel so short.

Rosalina was quick to fetch a vase from the kitchen. She took the flowers from Keith, who had been shyly admiring them, and grinned at the boys. "Alright. Call if you need me. Hunk, please have him back here by ten."

"Yes ma'am," he saluted.

And then they were off, Keith grabbing his black coat and sticking his tongue out at Lance's protests that it will ruin his _entire outfit, jerk_!

"So, if it's alright with you," Hunk said after they got into his little yellow beetle. It was kind of comical how tiny it was in comparison to Hunk. "I thought we could go to Sal's for lunch and then maybe get ice cream and maybe the space museum?"

Keith gave him a cheeky smile. "I'd like that a lot."

* * *

Hunk dropped Keith back off by nine-thirty. He even brought Keith to the door, and Keith had granted him a good night kiss. Keith smirked at the bright red lipstick print just slightly askew on Hunk's lips.

"Night, Rosalina! Night, Lance!" Hunk called with a wave and a dopey smile, fingers brushing his lips as he stared after Keith.

"Night, Hunk!"

The three moved into the living room. Dad must have still been out of town visiting his sister. Keith and Lance made themselves comfortable on the couch. Keith probably had a matching dopey smile and Lance was grinning too widely for Keith's comfort.

"So?" Lance demanded once mom sat in her loveseat. "How was it?"

"It was good." Keith reached down to take off his heels and rub at his sore feet. Yikes. He definitely wore them for too long. "We went to this little diner for lunch. Sal's, yanno? He knows the owner. And then we got ice cream and walked around the park. He, uhm, we held hands and he was really nice." He could already feel his cheeks heating up. "And then he took me to the space museum and we ate dinner at the Thai place and then here we are."

"Ate dinner pretty late, didn'tcha?" Lance teased with a lecherous grin.

Keith's blush darkened as he stammered. "No! I—We were at the—the museum for a while, okay? We ate late! Shut up!"

"I _saw_ that lipstick you bestowed upon my friend!" Lance crowed, cackling maniacally at Keith's rising horror. "I know you smooched him!"

"Why are you being so gross?" Keith grumbled, pulling his legs up to hug them close. "Mom, make him stop."

"Lance," mom warned in that tone that dared him to argue. Lance, of course, pouted. "I'm glad you had fun, honey. Did anyone give you trouble?"

Keith shook his head. The clip threatened to fall out. "Not really. We got a few funny looks, but no one said anything to us. I think most of them thought I was a girl, anyway." He wasn't going to tell her about the one guy at the park giving them an angry look. Nothing had ever come of it, and she didn't need to know. She also didn't need to know that the lady at the ticket stand for the museum had frowned and made an off-handed comment about how 'masculine' he looked. He also didn't mention how the idea of people 'mistaking' him for a girl made him feel kind of... _happy_.

Mom shook her head as Lance chuckled. "Well, I'm glad."

"Yeah," Keith said to his knees. "Uhm. So, uhm. Hunk might... be my boyfriend, now."

Lance smiled and knocked Keith's hip with his foot. "Good on ya, buddy. Hunk is a good first boyfriend to have. He was my first kiss, yanno?"

"Yeah?" Keith set his chin on his knees, trying to hide a grin. Hunk had already told him the story as they waited for their dinner. "Did you two date, too?"

"Nah." Lance wiggled down until he could press both feet against Keith. Keith welcomed the warmth. "We were, like, thirteen and wanted to know what the fuss was about kissing. And Hunk was really nervous about it, so we decided to be each other's first kiss so it wasn't so scary."

Keith hid his grin. That wasn't at all how Hunk had told it.


	11. Hey, Pop, It's Been a While

There was absolutely no way Keith was getting out of his bed that morning. He felt like shit, and he didn't want to face anyone's cheery attitude at all, especially not Lance's. Especially not on the anniversary of his dad's death.

And maybe mom would be comforting, give him a hug, let him skip school today. None of the other foster families let him mourn or grieve or anything. Just wanted him to stop with his bad attitude and suck it up, pretend that the death of his _only_ family member didn't devastate him and ruin his life.

Someone knocked on the door.

He couldn't dredge up the energy to answer.

The door opened. "Keith?" mom whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

He pulled the blanket down only enough to look at her, but kept a tight hold on his hippo. He wanted her to see that he'd been crying, wanted her to comfort him, wanted her to let him be sad, just for today.

"Oh, baby," she hushed, brushing his hair away from his forehead. It was soothing. "What's wrong?"

"Can I stay home today, mama?" He knew his voice was thick and sounded awful, and hopefully she understood. Moms were supposed to, right? That's what Rachel had said.

"Of course, baby." She was quiet for a moment, obviously unsure, before asking, "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

"My dad died today."

How long had he been waiting to say those words? For someone to ask? For someone to _care_? Years and years and years and years—

"I'm so sorry, Keith." She pulled him up to give him a hug.

He clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder as she ran her fingers through his tangled hair and murmured in Spanish to soothe him. The hippo tumbled to the bed from inside his cocoon. Mom just held him and let him cling to her and cry. And he felt _safe_, for the first time in a very, very long time. Safe enough to cry for what he'd lost, safe enough to let his emotions take over, safe enough to let himself be vulnerable in her arms, letting her comfort him without fear of retribution.

Once his sobs died down, she hesitantly asked, "Was he cremated? Buried?"

"Buried," he mumbled into her shoulder, sniffling into her shirt. Gross. "The first foster parents took me to that, at least."

"Did you want to go visit?" she asked, still running her fingers through his hair as she rested her head on top of his.

"I don't remember where he's buried." He wished he did, but because no other foster home had ever offered to take him to visit before and he had been moved around to so many different towns, they all blurred together and he couldn't remember where everything had started.

"If I can find out where, would you want to?"

Keith pushed away from her to look at her with watery eyes. "You'd let me?"

"Of course I would." She tried to smile, but it was wobbly, like she was trying to hold back from crying. Tears pooled in her eyes as she tried to blink them back. She cradled his face in her hands. "If you want to, I'll make it happen, okay?"

Slowly, he nodded. He went to brush away his tears, but mom brushed her thumbs along his cheeks instead. She kissed his forehead. "Let me make a few phone calls, okay?"

An hour later, well after Lance and dad had already left, she came nearly bounding into Keith's room with a grin. "Get up, lazy-butt! Let's go!"

Keith stared at her for a moment, then grinned and jumped out of bed to get ready. He was finally going to get to visit his dad's grave! For the first time in—in _years_. Had it been ten, already?

But she didn't tell Keith until they were on their way that it was a three hour drive. And of course he had to protest, say he didn't need to go, to _turn around Rosalina_. Even though he hoped she would scold him and tell him they were going anyway.

"We're already on the road and I already told Marcus and Lance we were leaving town. You want to make me a liar, Keith?"

Keith harrumphed and crossed his arms and acted all sullen and annoyed to try to hide his smile. For the most part, Keith kept to himself and stared out the window. A soft Spanish station was their background music until the radio fizzled out and Keith fiddled with the dial until he found a jazz station, just like he knew she liked if there wasn't a good Spanish station on.

Once they got into town, mom stopped them at a restaurant for lunch. Like, an actual restaurant and not just fast food. He wasn't all that hungry, but mom convinced him that if he ate all his food then they could get ice cream after the cemetery.

Keith had a hunch that they would have gotten ice cream either way, but he ate everything on his plate to appease her, even if it made him feel queasy.

They found the cemetery easily enough on the other edge of town, but Keith declined wanting to get flowers before going. He figured that they were just going to blow away or get mowed over or rot, so what was the point? The sexton pointed them in the right direction, and they left the car by the office since it was nice enough out for a walk. The air was crisp, but warm enough as spring headed strong towards summer. Keith appreciated the walk. He wasn't sure if he could sit in the car for a moment longer. Not while they were so close.

They paused on the road. The grave was a few rows away, KOGANE etched deep and sharp into the headstone.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

Keith was quiet, mulling over his answer. Birds chirped up in the trees and a burst of wind rustled the leaves. Would his dad be mad that he brought her along? But he also wanted to introduce them, introduce his dad to the family that finally loved him enough to want him. Finally, Keith linked his index finger with hers. "Please?"

He plopped down right in front of the headstone and pulled her down to sit with him.

"Hey, pop," Keith said after a stretch of silence, voice quiet. He was rubbing his thumb along his finger again, trying to soothe his racing thoughts. "It's been a while, huh? Ten years..." He traced the dates on the stone as he said this, fingernail scratching against the last number. "Sorry I didn't come sooner. No one ever really let me. Mom—Rosalina—she—she's good. She brought me as soon as she found where you were. I bounced around a lot after you died, but Rosalina—Rosalina and Marcus are the only one who wanted me." He paused to dig his hands into the dirt. "She said she's gonna adopt me. I hope that's okay with you."

Mom tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. "I'm sure he wants you to be happy, mijo. He wouldn't want you to be miserable. I didn't know him, of course, but no parent worth their salt would be angry for their child seeking out happiness."

Keith didn't reply, but leaned over until he was nestled in her side. His dad was a good man. He figured that maybe he wouldn't mind that the McClains were going to adopt him.

And then he started babbling, talking about all the good in his life, letting his dad know how _happy_ he was now, after years of anger and disappointment and abusive families. Mom never said anything, even when she must have realized that he was mostly talking about how happy he was with the McClain's.

Before they knew it, hours had passed and Keith's voice had gone hoarse a while ago. The afternoon sun warmed them as their butts grew numb from sitting on the hard ground for so long.

Thankfully, mom never rushed him about needing to leave or complained or anything.

She was a good woman.

"Let's go get that ice cream," Keith muttered when he was done, standing and brushing his pants off. He laughed as he tried to help mom up. She muttered how she could hear the joints protesting angrily.

"Next time I'm bringing a chair," she grumbled, brushing the dirt from her pants.

"Next time?"

"If you want me to come, I'll come."

He didn't reply, but he gave her a quick hug. Just the offer—it made him feel warm, full. Talking to the headstone had made him feel empty, but—complete, in a way, and mom offering what she could filled him back up again to the brim. Pulling away, he grinned mischievously at her to hide his tears. After all, he'd cried enough today. He noticed that he was finally catching up to her height—maybe her height already, and soon he would catch up to Lance, and—

"Race ya to the car!"

He dashed off before she could gather her wits.

"You know I can't run, Keith!"

Keith cackled back at her and continued his mad run back for the car.


	12. Shop Talk

With Hunk's anxiety and Keith's aversion to anything social amongst his peers, the two planned to go out for a date instead of going to prom with Lance and his date (much to Lance's annoyance).

("Come on!" Lance tried to cajole in the weeks leading up to the dance. He was on the prom committee and Very Interested in getting his foster brother and best friend to go to prom with him. "It'll be fun!"

"Neither of us dance," Keith pointed out, trying his best to sound Done.

Lance scoffed and roll his eyes, hand planted firmly on his hip. "So you can just hang out, then!"

"We're not gonna rent out suits or whatever just to stand there," Keith spat back. "We don't want to go. Drop it."

"But—"

Keith turned from the counter from making a peanut butter and banana sandwich to glare at Lance. "You're being very disrespectful of your best friend's anxiety."

"... Low blow."

"Then shut up.")

Keith still got all dressed up and let Lance help him get ready for his date. It was finally warm enough for him to wear his favorite new red crop top again, though he kept with his black skinny jeans and his heels, just so he wouldn't give Hunk a stroke. He asked mom to paint his nails red to match his lipstick while Lance did his makeup. He preened at the attention as the two definitely pampered him. Besides, he was enjoying himself!

Plaxum and Hunk arrived minutes apart. While Lance and Plaxum went to prom together (_she's just a friend, mom!_) Keith and Hunk were going to go on their date. Although, they were going to go to dinner together as a group with Pidge and would go their separate ways afterwards.

But first, _pictures_. Jesus fucking Christ.

Mom and dad cooed over Lance and Plaxum as obnoxiously as they could. Probably because it made Mindy, the nine-year-old foster, giggle behind her bear. Laura had dropped her off a few hours before and Lance had offered to do her hair and makeup, too. She seemed to be having fun, despite whatever had happened to her to get her taken away from her mom. Keith didn't want to pry—he knew the haunted look well enough.

Mindy didn't have a fancy dress, but mom had made something out of one of her old shirts she had found in the back of her closet. It did its job well enough, apparently, and Mindy and Lance posed ridiculously for the camera.

But then, Mindy asked during their makeover if Keith was a boy or a girl. Keith stuttered and felt his face warm obnoxiously, finally deciding to say that he was just a boy who liked to wear makeup and skirts sometimes. Mindy dropped it at that, but Lance shot him a concerned look over her head.

Keith ignored him.

What did that say when strangers kept asking if he was a boy or a girl, or mistook him for one? Did that mean he really _was_ a girl? But... he still liked guy stuff, though. And, yeah, Lance was right when he said Veronica liked guy stuff despite being a girl, but—

This was so _stupid_.

He didn't have _time_ for that bullshit. He had a date with Hunk to enjoy, he had classwork he needed to finish.

He was a boy. Who... liked girl things.

Yeah.

He shook his head and joined the chaos again. Keith and Hunk only allowed mom to take two pictures of them—one as a couple, and one with Lance and Plaxum. That was _it_! They did not need eighty thousand pictures of the exact same thing.

Keith finally managed to urge them out the door.

He had prom to avoid.

* * *

For a Saturday, the shop was rather slow. Surprising, since it was nearing summer and Saturdays were usually the busiest days. But dad had sent two of the guys home and told them they'd still be paid for a full day and that he would call them if he needed them. Michael was finishing up a tire alignment and dad was working on diagnosing a problem with Keith watching as he explained every step. And once Michael was done with his SUV, dad told him he could leave as well, since they were only an hour from closing up anyway.

Then it was just him and dad.

Keith liked Marcus McClain. He reminded Keith a lot of his own dad—quiet, humorous, willing to stand his ground, a calming, solid presence. He was a big man—almost bigger than what Keith remembered of his birth father. But he was softer, too. Though just as kind and ready to help, however he was needed. Keith really enjoyed the weekends when he could spend his days at the garage with him and hang out.

Dad shut the hood and wiped his hands on his rag. "Can I ask a question?"

Uh oh. "Uh, sure."

Dad moved them back towards the sinks to wash up. "I noticed that you don't... dress up? When you're here. Like, no makeup and stuff. Can I ask why? I thought you liked it?"

Keith shrugged as he washed his hands after dad. "I mean, it's not really practical, right? Skirts and heels and stuff are safety hazards. And I sweat too much so the makeup would just get sweaty and runny and stuff." Why was dad asking that, anyway?

"I know, but—" Dad frowned at the paper towel in his hands. "Let's go give Mrs. Blackwell a call that her car is done."

They were the only ones in the shop; dad had told everyone else to go home after cleaning their areas and enjoy the nice weather while he and Keith stayed behind to finish up. While dad called the client, Keith sat in the spinny chair and spun around, waiting for him to get off the phone. He was also trying to come up with an adequate answer for... whatever the hell it was dad was trying to ask.

Dad sat in the other spinny chair at the other desk and clasped his hands behind his head, showing off his rather spectacular sweat stains. Keith grimaced, but dad only grinned cheekily.

"I only asked," he said out of the blue, "because I know Jenny does, sometimes. I mean, not get all dressed up, but she wears some makeup and does her nails and puts up her hair and stuff. But you... take off your nail polish and stuff."

Keith cringed and hunched his shoulders up. The McClains were great about him being femme and whatever, but... "I mean," Keith said, continuing to spin around so he wouldn't have to look at his dad, even though he was getting kinda dizzy. The world blurred around him as he spun 'round and 'round. "I know you're okay with it. But... Not everyone is. Okay with guys being femme, I mean. Especially guys in a _mechanic_ shop. And I don't want to cause trouble for you and your employees."

"If they're not going to respect my own kid, how the hell am I supposed to believe they're good people?"

The world jolted to a stop as Keith stopped spinning the chair to really look at him. His heart fluttered stupidly in his chest at him calling Keith his kid. Keith sort of wondered if the heart fluttering would ever stop when one of the McClains made it obvious he was part of the family, but he also hoped that it never stopped. Dad was frowning, but not in anger. At least, Keith didn't _think_ he was angry. But that didn't even make _sense_.

"I'm not going to employ people who prove themselves to be prejudice," dad said at his frown. "I'm not the kind of guy who will keep a hostile work environment just so some fuckin'—fuckin' _asshole_ can keep his job."

"Oooh, careful," Keith teased, hoping dad would take the bait to change the subject. "Mom would wash your mouth with soap if she heard you say that."

"She would agree with me," dad argued back. The rolling chair wobbled as dad moved the chair closer to him to grab his hands. His brown eyes were warm, kind, imploring. "Keith, if you wanted to be more 'femme,' as you call it, you can. And if anyone makes fun of you or makes you uncomfortable, you just have to tell me and I'll back you up."

"That's not fair to them, though," Keith replied quietly, looking down at his lap to avoid looking at him, though he knew it was of no use. When Marcus McClain decided on something that concerned his children—

"I don't care," dad said firmly. "My children take top priority, and guess what?" Keith looked back up to see him smiling down at him. "You're one of my children. _Your_ happiness comes before theirs, and they're going to get a rude awakening when they realize their asshole behavior doesn't get them far in life."

Keith shook his head. "But—I'm not even your kid—"

Dad's hands gripped tight around his, warm and solid and comforting. "You _are_, though. Just because the adoption papers aren't signed yet, doesn't mean you're not my kid. Even if it falls through and you don't officially, legally become part of the family, that doesn't mean I'll stop considering you my kid, too. And I'm going to do what it takes to get you to believe that I love you without a stupid piece of paper."

Keith used his shoulder to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Thanks, dad. I—I needed to hear that, I guess."

Dad patted his knee with a grin. "Good. And you know you can talk to us about anything, right? We're here to support you, however we can."

With that, he got up and mumbled something about cleaning the shop so they could leave. Keith sat for a moment longer, watching as he meandered towards the garage.

... Did they know he was questioning his gender identity?


	13. Finally Official

It took Keith until early June before he finally finished his junior year coursework.

Thank. Fuck.

As soon as he turned in his final packet, he passed out for the rest of the day and didn't crawl out of bed until noon the next day. Mom let him sleep and even kept the others from bugging him.

But he was done, and so, so happy. He couldn't help gushing about how he could finally go to class with his friends and not be stuck in one room all day every day.

"I like Coran, don't get me wrong," he said over his victory cereal. "But I'm done with his room."

She let him pick any restaurant he wanted to celebrate. He picked a steakhouse and got all dolled up, crop top and shorts and high heels and makeup and hair that he did all by himself (with Lance's strict supervision and criticism). They met Hunk, Pidge, Shiro, and Adam there, per Keith's tentative request when mom asked him if he wanted anyone to join them. Keith and Lance threw peanut shells at each other, and Keith couldn't think of anything that would make him happier.

* * *

A few nights after the party, Keith tiptoed into his parents' room as they were settling into bed. He sat on the edge by mom, feet propped on the frame, staring at the wall and away from their gaze. They kept quiet, hopefully knowing that he would say whatever he needed to say at his own pace. The house was quiet—Lance was at Hunk's for a sleepover, and Keith had declined so the two could have some "bro time."

Well, that was what he told them. Really, he just wanted to talk to his parents without interruption.

Keith took a deep, shaky breath. He needed to ask. "So if you adopt me, will I keep my last name?"

"Not _if_," dad retorted hotly, startling both of them with his vehemence. Keith spun around to face him, eyes wide. "_When_ we adopt you," dad continued before Keith could question him, "you can keep Kogane if you want. Or, you're more than welcome to have it changed to ours. Whatever you want."

Keith was quiet for several minutes, moving his wide-eyed stare away from them to stare back at the wall, thumb running back and forth over his finger, knees hugged close. His heart raced. Dad sounded so... _sure_. Like there was no way the paperwork wouldn't go through. And they even gave him a _choice_. They weren't going to force him to do one or the other.

"I think," Keith said quietly to his knees, "I wanna be a McClain."

Mom pulled him close, kissing his temple, praising him in soft-spoken Spanish until he fell asleep.

Dad had apparently carried him back to his bed. Keith smiled into his pillow the next morning, hugging his hippo close.

* * *

"Keith!" mom screeched a few days later. Footsteps rushed through the house.

He was putting his clothes away like mom had asked. Something about putting his clothes away in _his_ dresser made it feel permanent, like he wasn't about to be uprooted again, like he had a place in the world, specifically for him. Stupid, maybe, but he loved doing little chores that made mom smile at him and praise him.

"Keith! Keith McClain!"

Keith paused, wide-eyed and bent over his dresser. "What?" Keith McClain? What was she on about?

Mom slapped some papers on his dresser in front of him. "It's officially official!"

His breath hitched in his chest. There, plain as day, was the name change order and the adoption papers finally proclaiming him being an official McClain.

Mom's first order of business: a Target run.

"Your room is too bare," mom complained as she pulled Keith after her. Lance skipped behind them as dad twirled the car keys on his finger, waiting at the garage door for them to _hurry up, please and thank you_, _I've been waiting for ten minutes now_. "Now that we know you're officially staying, we need to decorate it!"

Keith, of course, tried to protest. He didn't _need_ stuff. But mom wouldn't hear a word of it. At Target, she grabbed a cart and marched off towards the home and furniture section. Lance was putting everything he thought Keith needed (_Look at this elephant, Keith! And you need this weird geometric thing!_) and Keith, exasperated, rolled his eyes and would put everything back (_I don't need that, Lance._). Dad even tried to sneak in a rug (_Why do I need a rug, dad? My floor is carpet. Stop. Ohmygod mom make them stop._). Mom just grinned and didn't do anything to stop them. He even caught her sneaking in her own little things she thought he needed, especially the hippo pillow she found.

Keith didn't protest that one.

Apparently she was even feeling generous enough to let them pick out new makeup, too.

And then they just wandered through the store, since that was a must when going to Target. Apparently. Keith never understood that, but, whatever. Mom and dad were buying him things and he was having _fun_. They meandered towards the clothing section and Keith stopped to stare at the Pride table they had displayed in the aisle between the men and women's sections.

"Pride is next week, isn't it?" mom asked, a little too innocently.

"Yeah, I think so," Lance replied as he looked through the display. There were racks around the table, too, showing off kid's dresses and a rainbow skirt. He picked up the sequined rainbow tank top and grinned, showing it off.

Mom picked up a white t-shirt with "Love Makes a Family" in rainbow colors. Dad picked up a grey button up with little popsicles all over in the different flag colors.

And Keith eyed the rainbow skirt.

"Do you want to try it on?" mom asked, running her fingers over the tulle.

"What?" Shit. Did she _know_? Know that maybe—maybe he liked—that maybe he wasn't—

"The skirt? Do you want to try it on? I think with a black shirt and your heels it would look nice."

Keith bit his bottom lip, playing with the ends of the skirt. She wasn't making fun of him. She wasn't—wasn't acting like it was weird. She was acting like—like it was just something he _did_. Like something he liked and wanted to encourage. Sure, he wore heels, but—but a skirt was _different_.

Finally, he nodded and looked for a larger size. He didn't want to accidentally rip the material, after all. He tentatively asked the employee for a dressing room who didn't give him a second glance. Keith quickly shucked off his heels and shorts. The material of the skirt was interesting, to say the least. It was short in the front, coming above his knees, and the back went down to his calves.

And...

He kinda... really _liked_ it. It made him feel really good.

But... He was still a _guy_. Did that make him, like, a pervert? Or a crossdresser? Or...

Or was Lance right, and he was trans?

Keith put his heels back on. Mom was right—it did look nice together.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. He didn't have time to be thinking about it. The others were waiting for him. He was a little nervous they would be weirded out, about it, but—

"Holy crow!" Lance cried when Keith stepped out. "You look _good_."

"Yeah?" Keith looked down at the skirt and twisted his hips so the material swished around him. He liked how it felt on his legs. "I kinda like it."

"Then it's settled," declared mom.

He changed back out of the skirt and shyly placed it in the cart. Hopefully they were done—they'd been there for hours and even though it was stuff for him, he was tired of walking around.

But then Lance gasped, stopping in the middle of the aisle. "Mom! We need rainbow eyeshadow!"

And, interestingly enough, Lance was able to find an eyeshadow pallet with all the rainbow colors. "And _glitter_!"

_Yes_. Keith tried to hide his enthusiasm about the glitter. He'd already gotten in trouble for dumping some on Lance, but, well, he hadn't minded too much when mom made him clean it up.

She let them get it.

On the way home, Lance was teasing Keith. Mom had turned around just enough to see their interaction. "I'm no longer the baby of the family anymore!" Lance was gloating, nose up haughtily and sticking his tongue out at Keith.

Keith, not taking his bullshit, furrowed his brow in confusion. "But I'm older than you."

"No," Lance said, bordering on horrified. "No, you're not."

"Yeah? I'll be eighteen in October."

"_No_."

"Yeah?"

"You're still the baby because you're the newest!"

"I don't think that's how that works—"

Keith hid his smile as Lance tried to argue that Keith was, in fact, the baby of the family.

* * *

Keith hid under the covers, phone illuminating his little haven. He'd already texted Shiro and Adam and Pidge and Hunk about how the adoption was finally official, and they'd all congratulated him with various keysmashes and exclamations of happiness. It warmed his heart, made him feel all fuzzy inside, and he soaked it all in.

To think—eight months ago he was starving, thirsty, a few weeks from _dying_. Hopeless. Surviving out of spite.

And now he had an actual _family_. _Friends_.

He was so, incredibly, amazingly happy.

But... his heart also ached. Something was... missing.

He opened his text conversation with Shiro. Shiro had been his saving grace, way back when they met. Shiro—and later Adam—had been the only one who actually gave a shit about his wellbeing, had helped him understand that he was gay, that it was a thing, that he wasn't worthless or broken or bad.

But...

**Keith**: Hey, Shiro? You still up?

**Shiro**: Yeah, what's up?

**Keith**: Do you think I'm a girl?

**Shiro**: It doesn't matter what I think

**Shiro**: Do YOU think you're a girl?

Of course Shiro wasn't going to just _give_ him the answer. The loser had always believed in letting Keith figure out the answer himself. It frustrated Keith to no end.

**Keith**: Lance thinks I am

**Shiro**: Why does he think that?

**Keith**: I dunno bc I act like a girl I guess

**Keith**: And bc I don't like being called "dude"

**Keith**: But he does girl stuff too! But he says that doesn't make him a girl bc he knows he's a boy

**Keith**: But I still like guy things

**Keith**: But he says Veronica likes guy things too but is still a girl

**Keith**: idk

**Shiro**: Keith

**Shiro**: I can't tell you if you're trans or not

**Shiro**: But I CAN tell you that it's okay to question your gender and you can experiment if you want

**Shiro**: And if you want you can come over and we can talk about it

Keith took a moment to respond. He _did_ want to talk about it. Lance had been open, too, but... He'd known Shiro longer, and Shiro had helped him before.

**Keith**: You're not gonna tell my mom and dad are you?

**Shiro**: Of course not

**Shiro**: That's up to you if you want them to know. I'm not going to tell them any secrets you want me to keep

**Keith**: Thanks

**Shiro**: No problem. Love you kiddo

**Keith**: Love you too Shiro


	14. It's Pride, Y'all

Chaos started way too early in the morning.

By seven, the house was completely full. People had to stop by mom to get slathered in sunscreen. In one of the unused bedrooms, Veronica and Rachel were doing people's hair. In the bathroom, Lance was coating everyone in rainbow eyeshadow and putting whatever flags they wanted on their cheeks while he showed off his sparkly tank top and bi bandana wrapped around his arm. Keith was armed with the body glitter and used it generously. In the kitchen, Hunk was putting ham and cheese sandwiches together as dad counted the pre-packaged fruit cups and water bottles and other snacks to last them through the day.

They were out the door by eight thirty.

It took three full cars to get everyone to the park where Pride would be held. Events were supposed to last all day, and they were allowed to bring in their own food and drink. From what Veronica claimed from last year, the food vendors were pretty expensive. They would leave the coolers of food in Luis' car and carry just a few snacks in his backpack. Dad and Shiro also carried backpacks with water bottles—all fifteen carefully labeled by Rachel.

Keith stood in the middle of the group, trying to adjust his skirt. His boots were in the car, in case the heels started to hurt his feet. He was wearing his black crop top with the rainbow skirt, the front of which just barely touched his knees as the back fell to his calves. He had shaved that morning, from toe to hip, and had even painted his nails in rainbow colors the night before.

Hunk swooped down and kissed Keith's cheek. "You look good, Keith."

Keith smiled shyly. "Thanks, Hunk."

"Huh," said mom as she looked around the group.

"What?" dad asked. "What's wrong?"

The group, overhearing dad, turned to her and she eyed them carefully. "I have six children and only two are straight." She narrowed her eyes at Rachel and Luis. "Where did I go wrong with you two?"

Peals of laughter filled the air.

It took a while before they were calm enough to enter the park. It was still early enough that people were just trickling in. Most of them would come with the parade in an hour or so, but they wanted to be able to check the booths while they could.

Mom and dad had given Keith and Lance fifty dollars each for whatever they wanted to buy. Most of the small things like stickers and stuff were free, but there were some tables with merchandise that people could buy. It was a struggle trying to convince Lance he didn't _need_ to buy every single thing he came across. Pidge was quick to smack his hand every time he reached for his wallet. Keith discretely tried to point out all the things he thought Lance would like with a smirk.

They moved as one large group, crowding around tables but trying to take up as little space as possible. People tried to make way for them when they could, but fifteen people was a lot to make room for.

At least it was nice out. But mom wanted to put more sunscreen on him but he dodged her every effort, hiding behind Hunk or Shiro for protection. But then she went after Shiro—they were just so _pale_, she claimed. And _Pidge_! Pidge was the worst of them. But they managed to dodge her and promised they would put more on at lunch. Mom agreed, but grumbled all the while.

Booth after booth, filled with so many colors and pride it was almost overwhelming. There was one booth handing out small drawstring bags with lots of memorabilia depending on which flag you wanted. Lance happily picked up the pink and blue and purple bag and immediately started going through it. Inside there was a full-sized flag Lance wanted to wear as a cape but mom convinced him he didn't want to lose it or ruin it, right?

Adam was also quick to pick up the same bag, showing it proudly to Shiro who picked up a rainbow one. Veronica picked up her pink and orange stripped bag with a grin, waving it in front of Rachel's face to tease her. Marco nonchalantly picked up his black, grey, white, and purple bag with a small smile.

While Sylvio and Nadia haggled with one of the ladies behind the table into letting them have _all_ the bags _please_, Keith tried to decide which one he wanted. He had talked a little with Shiro and Adam the other night, but... he still wasn't anywhere close to an answer.

Distantly, he heard Lance helping Hunk decide which one he wanted, either the same as Lance or the pink and yellow and blue one (Lance, despite how he had told Keith that pansexuality was pretentious, was helping him make a list of pros and cons for both without showing what he truly thought on the matter). Keith stood by, trying to look bored, but not picking up a bag yet. But he was also keeping an eye on Pidge, too. They had come out to their little group a few days ago, asking them to keep it a secret for a while. But Pidge was eyeing both the pink, blue, and white one and one that was yellow, white, purple, and black. Pidge's gaze caught mom's, and their cheeks flushed brilliantly as they stepped away from the table. Keith wanted to tell them it was okay, but mom got to them first.

Frowning, mom stepped up to Pidge to have a quieter conversation. "What's wrong, Pidge? Don't you want one?"

Pidge kept their eyes down, as if scared. His parents were so accepting—there was no way mom would do something bad to them. Hopefully. "N-No, I was just looking."

Mom tapped her fingers to her leg, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "What's this one mean?" she asked, pointing to the one with the yellow stripe. "I know what the others are, but not this one."

"It's—uhm. It means 'non-binary,'" Pidge replied quietly, fingers playing with the hem of their large green shirt. "It's under the trans umbrella. Uhm—"

"Oh!" Mom smiled at Pidge. "Shiro explained what that one means. Are you—can I ask? Or is that rude? That's probably rude of me," she babbled, hiding her pink face behind her hands.

"Oh," Pidge said quietly, smiling shyly up at her. "Yeah. Uhm. I am. Uhm. Non-binary, that is."

"Oh!" Mom grinned and grabbed the bag. "Then you should definitely have it! Oh." She stopped just short of smacking Pidge in the face with it and dropped her smile. "I'm not meaning you _have_ to if you don't want to—"

Pidge laughed. "It's fine, Rosalina. I—yeah—I do want it, actually. I just didn't know if you would be okay with it, you know?"

Surprised, mom blinked at them a few times. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Pidge shrugged, taking the bag from her. "I dunno. Not many people _are_."

"Are your parents?"

"I haven't told them, yet." Pidge had told them that their weren't nearly as openly accepting of queer people as his parents, which was half the reason they weren't ready to be out, yet.

Mom nodded. "Okay. I won't say anything, okay? Not until you tell me. Uhm. May I ask which pronouns?"

"Uhm." Pidge shrugged, looking away and scratching their nose as they clutched the bag close. "I guess female pronouns are okay for now until I tell my parents, yanno?"

Smiling brightly, mom placed a hand on their head. "Just let me know if that changes, yeah?"

Surely... His fingers brushed over the pink, blue, and white bag before he grabbed the rainbow one. Alright, so mom was accepting of trans people. But would that transfer to her _own_ kid being trans? Especially the one she had just adopted?

Besides, he wasn't even sure if he _was_ trans. Sure, Adam had said that most cis people didn't spend months questioning if they were or not, that if they were agonizing for months that probably meant they weren't as cis as they thought they were. He'd even said it was okay if he asked others to use different pronouns and a different name for a while, just to see, and that he didn't _have_ to have dysphoria and feel uncomfortable in his body to be trans, that he could be happy how his body was and he could still be a woman, or both, or neither, or whatever the fuck he decided he was.

He just wanted to _know_. But he just... couldn't decide how he felt. And Shiro and Adam were way too much in the "you need to figure it out yourself because we can't figure it out for you" camp to be of any real use.

Apparently, Nadia and Sylvio had convinced the lady that if they had leftover bags when the day was over that they could have them. For now, though, they were only allowed one bag and they both picked the rainbow bags. Keith highly doubted the two would even still be awake when the festivities would be cleaning up. He was pretty sure that the people manning the table were betting on that, too.

Lunch rolled around, finally. They picked a spot under a large tree and spread out several blankets to make one large picnic blanket. Mom set the sunscreen in Shiro's hand with a firm glower that had him quickly uncapping the bottle and shoving it towards Keith once he had a good glob of it. They made a large circle with Nadia and Sylvio in the middle so they couldn't wander off without tripping over an adult. Marco started passing out sandwiches, and everyone passed them down the line, same with the fruit cups and chips. Shiro and dad quickly handed out the water bottles. Music played in the background from the stage—Veronica said they were all LGBT+ bands, which Keith thought was kinda cool. Maybe he could find their merch tables or something.

It was—good. Keith was having so much fun, being surrounded by people like himself. And he could see that there were a lot of people sporting trans stuff, like t-shirts and stickers and pins and all these cool things he wished he had the courage to grab himself.

They split off into small groups after lunch with the order to check their phones frequently and to meet back at the tree in two hours to check in.

Lance immediately pulled Hunk down one way, giving them a cheeky grin and sticking his tongue out as they hurried away. Mom and dad stayed under the tree, claiming it was too hot for them and they wanted to rest and listen to the music for a bit. The rest of his siblings went their own ways—Luis, Lisa, and the kids went in search of games, and Rachel, Veronica, and Marco wandered off to go look at booths.

That just left him, Pidge, Shiro, and Adam.

Keith took Pidge's hand with a smirk. "Guess it's you and me, short-stack."

"I will take out your kneecaps." But they didn't let go of his hand.

"You coming?" Keith asked, raising an eyebrow at Shiro and Adam. They shrugged and followed after them.

As far as he knew, only Shiro and Adam—and probably Lance—knew he was questioning his gender identity. But... Pidge was so sure of themself. And Keith kind of wanted to pick their brain. And what better way than at Pride to come out?

"Let's go over here," he urged, pulling them towards a trans resource table. There were some cool things—pronoun pins and little flags and pamphlets with all the nearby trans-friendly doctors and therapists and such. He riffled through some of them with one hand, deciding if he wanted to pick some up. He wasn't wanting to change his body or anything, but... Maybe in the future?

"Keith?" Pidge asked quietly. Shiro and Adam looked through the items on the table carefully, picking up pamphlets and looking through them and sticking them in their bags.

"Lance thinks I'm a girl," he started, picking up a female pronoun pin. "I... think I might be, too. I dunno. It's confusing."

Pidge squeezed his hand. He looked down at them to see them grinning at him. "I can show you the trans way, if you want."

Keith squeezed their hand back. "Thanks, Pidge. I'd appreciate that."

The group started lagging around dinner time, tired and hot and hungry and ready to go to collapse. The kids were getting cranky, and there was absolutely no way they would be able to stay up late when the tables would start packing their things away in a few hours.

They ate a quiet dinner at Sal's and headed their separate ways, showering and getting ready for bed quietly, even though the sun barely touched the horizon.

Before she went to bed, Keith heard mom checked on Lance. And then footsteps came to his room and paused just inside the door.

Keith pretended to be asleep as she came closer. He did this often enough, loving knowing that she checked on him, even though he was almost an adult. He loved that she cared enough about him to make sure he was sleeping alright, to come tuck him in. He wasn't ever going to complain, and he would milk it for as long as he could.

Mom smoothed back some of his hair, still damp from his shower. His cheeks were a little warm, probably burned, and his shoulders were probably just as burned. He knew, without a doubt, that she would tell him "I told you so" in the morning when she handed him the aloe. She kissed his temple, smoothing back his hair one more time, and left, quietly shutting his door behind her.

Maybe...

Keith took a deep breath, and wondered how he would feel if mom and dad treated him like their daughter instead.


	15. A Pocketful of Sundays

It was nearing the end of June, hot and muggy and rainy on a Sunday morning. Dad was sleeping in and Lance had slept over at Hunk's. Keith, though, was sitting at the table eating breakfast with mom. Laura had just picked up Steven, a sullen teenager who had been with them for almost a whole week while they tried to find his relatives and find a time to be able to come get him from a few towns away. Kind of reminded Keith how he had used to be.

"Mom?" Keith asked quietly, stirring the remaining milk in his bowl. He had been wondering for a while, now, but had kept forgetting to bring it up. "How come you guys never go to church? Like—I know you pray and stuff, so you're religious, right?"

"I—we have a few reasons," she managed to stutter out. Which—_weird_. "I'm sorry I never asked if you're religious? Did you want to go to church?"

Keith shook his head easily, not troubled in the slightest even though something about the question was bothering her. "I mean. I'm not religious. My dad might have been Buddhist or something, I don't remember. But I wasn't ever." He shrugged again, trying to seem unbothered. Sometimes he wished he could find it in himself to figure out exactly what his dad had practiced, but he was also happy to just... _not_.

Mom sat back, looking contemplative. After a moment of watching Keith swirl his spoon through his milk, the metal swishing and making a rather soothing noise against the ceramic, she took a deep breath. "We're Catholic. Both sides, are. And you know how the Catholic Church feels about the LGBT community." She ran a hand over her face with another sigh. Keith watched her, giving her his whole attention. "With Marco, no one said anything about him being ace. It wasn't anyone's business to tell that, so no one but us really knew. But when Veronica came out... Of course she wasn't quiet about it," she added with a laugh. Keith smirked at that. Veronica was nothing but a proud, raging lesbian. "We never said anything to anyone at our church, but, word got around. Father Eric stopped us at the door and told us we weren't welcome anymore as long as we continued to support her."

"So you just... stopped going?"

"Yes." It was her turn to shrug. "It was nice to have a religious community, you know? But my family comes first. We're still Catholic, but... in our own way, now."

Keith looked back down at his bowl, contemplative. "So everyone in the family is Catholic?" he asked tentatively. "But... no one was hostile or anything to Ronnie and Lance or me?"

"You... haven't met everyone," mom admitted sheepishly. "They're not allowed at the same family functions if we're there. My mother is very, very protective of her family, and she made that rule—that if we were there, the homophobes weren't allowed." She chuckled and shook her head. "Pretty sure she wrote them out of the will and banished them from her house, too."

"Go abuela," Keith said, suitably impressed.

"Indeed." Mom scooped up the dishes to put them in the sink. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Keith went up to the sink and started washing the dishes without prompting. He liked doing chores around the house—the McClains had done so much for him, it was the least he could do. Plus, he was usually praised with small smiles and little kisses. And he was going to continue to do things to wring as much affection from them as he could.

Mom pressed a kiss to his cheek—he was finally taller than her and quickly approaching Lance's height. Lance had let his ire be known when he figured _that_ out in a twenty-minute spiel that ended with a pillow to the face, courtesy of Rachel, just a few days ago. Keith tried not to feel smug about it, but—Lance had that effect on him. "I was just curious. Uhm. You don't expect me to be Catholic, do you?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. Thank _fuck_. "I'm not going to force you to be anything you don't want to be. And I'm never going to force you to believe in my faith. That's not how it works, and if someone does try to force you to believe in something, they're doing their faith wrong." She patted his cheek with a smile.

Keith suspected that she wasn't just talking about religion.

"Oh. Thanks."

Mom hummed in reply and started looking through the cupboards to prepare for dinner.

"Also curious," Keith added over the running water. "Can Shiro and Adam come for our Sunday family dinner sometime?"

"Sure." She paused to look over the ingredients in the fridge. "Maybe next weekend? Do you know if they have any food allergies? Favorite foods?"

Keith could feel the stupid smile on his face, but—he couldn't help it. He just—He loved this woman so much. She was always so kind, so accepting, willing to help anyone.

"What?" she asked when she turned around, looking a little freaked out.

"Nothing." Keith shook his head and turned off the water. His hands dripped at his sides. "Just—" He cut himself off, but kept his gaze on the faucet for a long moment. His heart jackhammered in his chest. He hadn't ever told her that he loved her, even though she told him every day at least once. She'd made clear after the first time that she didn't expect him to say it back unless he wanted to. But—She deserved to know. Determined, he turned to her and said, "I love you."

Tears sprung in her eyes, startling him. What the fuck? Surely telling her that he loved her wouldn't make her _cry_? And why was she _looking_ at him like that? All—All soft, and loving, and awed, and like Christmas had snuck up on her and wacked her over the head?

And then she pulled him close into a hug, clutching tightly at him. Even though his hands were still wet, he grasped the back of her shirt, just as tight.

"I love you, too, mijo."

* * *

"Keith! Shiro's here!"

Keith stumbled from the hallway, Sylvio plastered to his back as he raced into the room, Lance and Nadia hot on their heels. "Shiro!" He gently put Sylvio down so he could properly greet him.

It was so great that all his favorite people were under one roof. He didn't get to see Shiro and Adam often—just every few weeks because they were busy adults and had their own lives. And it was _fine_, _**really**_. He just... wished he could see them more.

Maybe he could convince his parents that Shiro and Adam needed to come over for _every_ Sunday dinner.

* * *

His siblings were, of course, fighting again. Lance and Veronica had started another argument, because they loved to bicker and argue about anything and everything. Keith wasn't even sure what it was about this time. Shoes? Her new haircut? Her new girlfriend that she'd met at Pride but refused to bring around because her siblings were a menace? (_"But not you, Keith. You're a sweetheart."_ Obviously he wasn't trying hard enough to annoy her, despite his tips from Lance and Rachel.)

It was the sudden silence that pulled him from his diabolical thoughts (maybe he could get her some lotion that would stain her hands green or something?). He looked up, noodles hanging from his mouth. With a flush probably as bright as his shirt, he slurped up the noodles, chewing as quickly as he could without choking.

"What?" he grumped, once he had swallowed.

"Oh," said Lance, quietly. "That makes sense. He _is_ the baby, after all."

"For the _last time_, I am _older_ than you—"


End file.
